#I found one part in a lp where they had all the scenes leading up to it

[auncyen]

I hate searching for references in p5 playthroughs because the sheer length of the game makes it hard to tell what's where but I'm not sure there's any good alternative

I'd be tempted to just write the fic and leave checking for later but that part of the game is so vague to me (it's the part in third semester where you have to go to Mementos) that I'd probably get everything wrong if I tried to write it without checking

edit: huzzah, found a playthrough with the sequence and saaaaving to reference later.

[dustedmagazine]

Bela Koe-Krompecher — Love, Death and Photosynthesis (DG)

In Love, Death and Photosynthesis, Bela Koe-Krompecher chronicles an often overlooked but vibrant underground scene around Columbus, Ohio in the 1980s and 1990s.  Told in an episodic, even fragmentary fashion, with short entries that jump around in time, the book doesn’t glamorize the music life. People live in awful apartments and scrounge for rent and drug money.  They imbibe liver-destroying quantities of beer and hard liquor, and they are loyal but not always kind to each other.

And yet, while base level existence is somewhat bleak, it’s at least possible. For a brief time in the least celebrated parts of the Midwest, people could scrape by on crappy part time jobs and make art and music the focus of their lives. I don’t know where you could do that anymore.   

Much of the action takes place at Used Kids Records, a ramshackle operation at the center of Columbus’ scene. Says Koe-Krompecher, “Music may have been a commodity out in the world, but at Used Kids, it was an inherent right. It was tiny, just a cramped shoebox of a store, with thousands of records crammed in every corner. The décor was made up of hundreds of flyers from various punk and indie shows and old LP covers.” Founded by Ron House of Thomas Jefferson Slave Apartments and Dan Dow of the Gibson Brothers, the shop became a meeting place for the oddballs and misfits and geniuses who made up Columbus’ unlikely indie scene, and in these days of streaming, when you can hardly find a record store anymore, it sounds like paradise.

Everybody who was anybody came through Used Kids. Robert Pollard turned up whenever he was in town. Jim Shepherd could be spotted huddled in a corner with Mike Rep. Lamont Thomas of Obnox did a shift or two behind the counter. Joey Ramone made a once a year stop when the Ramones played Ohio. The New Bomb Turks were regulars.

This is all really just background, though because the book centers on two characters who never got to be very well known: Jerry Wick and Jenny Mae Olds.

Jerry Wick was the lead singer in Gaunt, a nervy, volatile guy who loved music in the same desperate way that Koe-Krompecher did. “Almost nightly we bounced between the Dube and Stache’s; we watched Scrawl, the Afghan Whigs or Tar. And endless parade of bands travelling across the stage of our lives,” Koe-Krompecher wrote. Moreover, the two friends didn’t experience music passively. They had to dance.

“Jerry was quite a good dancer, one who would let his emotions empty out of his body, his pointy teeth poking out of a grin cast towards the heavens, beer in one hand, the other raised high above his head,” Koe-Krompecher writes. “At live shows so many of our friends in the underground rock scene were too self-conscious to dance…Jerry and I would be in the front of the stage at any show. The opportunity to be transported was too precious to waste.”  

Gaunt’s first single, split with New Bomb Turks, launched Anyway Records, the label Koe-Krompecher and Wick started (which continues to put out records today). Like many American bands of the late 1980s and early 1990s, Gaunt got swept up into a signing frenzy and was subsequently dropped. Wick, himself, was killed in a hit and run accident early in the morning on January 10, 2010. A punk to the end, he had never owned a car. He was riding a bicycle home when he was stuck.

The other indelible character is Jenny Mae Olds, Koe-Krompecher’s high school sweetheart who decamps their rural town for Columbus after high school and becomes a fixture in its indie scene. Her story is heartbreaking, a mash up of talent and alcoholism, originality and mental illness, which ends in homelessness, hospitalization and finally death.

“Jenny was confounding as an artist, at times brilliant and at others a pathetic mess who would rather smash her equipment and drink beer than practice or play shows out of town,” Koe-Krompecher writes. Though the two of them are only a couple for a few years, Koe-Krompecher spends the rest of his life looking after her. Koe-Krompecher eventually quits drinking, qualifies as a social worker to help other addicts, marries and has a family. Olds is an alcoholic her whole life and refuses to even think about stopping.

And yet, you can feel the pull of her charm, how she’d disappear for days and turn up somewhere, holding court and entertaining strangers with her imaginative stories and art. Even when confined to a nursing home, she wheels wildly through the halls, making friends with everyone, getting laughs in the most desperate places.

“Some people burst quickly, like a living firework, or in small twinkles, the flashing of a firefly. Jenny was both—at first she burned brighter than the surface of Mercury and then later she was transformed into something small, bleak and feeble. Her light was extinguished by drowning it gulp by gulp over the years,” writes Koe-Krompecher.

Koe-Krompecher describes Jenny Mae and her music so vividly that readers may end up wanting to hear her music. He was kind enough to send me a copy of Jenny Mae’s What’s Wrong with Me, a 2021 compilation of her singles and unreleased tracks, which is harrowing and lovely, a pop garage lost classic that, like its singer, can break your heart.

As a person who grew up in an alcoholic home, I found some parts of this book very hard to read.  However, no question that it’s a really fascinating glimpse at an under-covered corner of the indie-rock world. Koe-Krompecher was right there in the middle of it all. He somehow not only survived but took good notes.  He continues to maintain the excellent Anyway Records, one of the best small garage punk labels in America, supporting the scene without, like so many of his friends, succumbing to it. 

Jennifer Kelly

[where-theres-smoak-2]

In regards to how natural summoning became for Alina after she developed her independence from Mal, it remained that way even after they reunited. Instead of the girl he'd remembered, Mal was introduced to a New and Powerful Alina that had more priorities and relationships besides him. She also had another man on her mind, even mistakenly addressing him as "Aleksander" when he complimented her out of the blue. Her powers were still easy to control because she'd emotionally moved on from him.

Honestly, and this could just be me projecting or being biased, but I think M*l was actually surprised by the Alina he found. I actually also think she may have reminded him more of the little girl she used to be, the one who was a protector and would stand up to his bullies for him. I think this might have taken him back a bit because he had become accustomed to being the one who protected and Alina become more meek and submissive as they got older. Then they were separated and when he finds her again she's this strong, confident and powerful woman. I think he expected to find her all sad, scared and well a damsel in distress type thing, but she wasn't. I also do agree that M*l found an Alina who had grown and now had more priorities and relationships. I think because Alina seemed to struggle to make friends in the First Army and well M*l was really her only good friend, he assumed she would also struggle to make friends at the LP. But the opposite happened she really found her place there and I've said this in previous posts and I will keep saying it, she had stronger friendships and a better support system at the LP and with Aleks than she ever did anywhere else. I also think M*l was particularly surprised that she clearly had a deeper relationship with Aleks than he thought and whilst he reassured her that she didn't have to explain herself to him it was obvious from how he reacted to Aleks himself that M*l was not ok that there was a new guy on the scene for a number of reasons.

My personal opinion is that part of the reason why Alina was still able to have control over her powers even after she reunited with M*l is because she now knows she can survive without him. I think before when she was dependant on him to an unhealthy level she thought she could never be without him, that she needed him to survive, I think the idea of being without him and the fear of being alone is what lead to her keeping her powers subdued for so long. I think a part of this sadly is because M*l was her only friend and because she struggled to form relationships with anyone other than M*l. She fears that if she doesn't have him then there will be no one to love her or want her and she will be utterly alone. Yet when she does arrive at the LP she is embraced and welcomed by most immediately. She makes fast friends with Genya and Nadia and Marie. She develops a deep bond with Aleks, She becomes friends with Fedyor and she finds her place, the place where she can feel safe, be happy and flourish. I think knowing that she is able to connect with others outside of M*l and having that assurance that she won't be alone, that there will always be someone who will have her back even if its not M*l helps her move past that dependence she had on him. Who knows maybe this will mean M*l and Alina will have a healthier relationship in season 2 where they can be their own people without the toxic dependence, I hope so because I don't know if I could bear watching their scenes if it goes the same way as the books, just reading them was frustrating enough.

[bbugyu]

how seokmin knew

a journey with yoon jeonghan, lee seokmin, and you.

from the second seokmin first saw you, he thought you were far too good to be true, and he hadn't even gotten to learn the best parts of you yet.

prelude | part one | part two | part three | epilogue

wc.8888 | fluff, smut, courtship, oh jeez where do i even begin, the beginning i guess, polyamory, fem reader, musician!seokmin sugar daddy!jeonghan escort!reader, threesome, fingering, oral (everyone receiving), creampie, cumpla (like gunpla but with cum), (sorry), (but seriously lots of cumplay), overstim, switch!seok dom!han switch!reader, phone sex, snuck in a babygirl, hell yeah fighting for dominance, let's talk BOUNDARIES, hi mingyu, sorry but seokmin being a special guest is hot as hell, the required listening for the last scene is the album "new edition (1984)" by new edition (which is a real lp i own and listened to while writing it)

hELLOO!! welcome to my poly seokhan au! i have been neck deep in this universe for weeks now and i am finally releasing it in three parts! i will be posting today (obvi), tomorrow, and friday at noon pst, plus a little bonus epilogue whenever i finish it! today is all about seokmin and how he fell in love. i really poured a lot of myself into this one, between the poly reader and the obsession with architecture and the record collection (three fun facts about me, but you get no more context), so if you like it, please let me know! i did my best to portray the relationship as realistic and as healthy as possible❣️ also this series lowkey became a “how many cameos can i naturally squeeze in” kinda piece so if you spot one u should absolutely let me know hehe. and i edited my masterlist to accommodate for serial aus, let me know what you think!

please read the prelude linked in the contents of this post! it gives important context for the beginning of this part, establishes relationships, and sets the general mood 😏

~

seokmin lived a fairly simple life. he held private piano and guitar lessons in the comfort of his apartment, vaulted ceilings and tall windows helping to bring a bright, airy, studio environment during the day that he felt suited musical lessons perfectly - not the mention the lovely acoustics the tall room provided when he sang, belting out improv musical theater riffs as he scrambled eggs for a sandwich. he genuinely found joy and pride in helping adults and children alike train their hands to achieve new heights. he also did some contract vocal lessons at an entertainment company, stopping by the studio two or three times a week to train young new hopefuls in the music industry. he wondered how different his life would have been if he had taken their path, but he enjoyed the quiet downtime in his line of work, and wouldn't trade it for anything

his simple life. he drank tea in the mornings as the sun rose over the skyline, rode the subway with his guitar bag over his shoulder and his groceries in two overstuffed ecobags, and enjoyed his days off by relaxing in his home, scribbling down lyrics and compositions on the legal pad that never left the music shelf of his upright piano. the less simple part of his life could be described simply as you.

the second time he had been summoned to accompany you, he had been at home, heating up leftover takeout and mindlessly watching some drama on a saturday evening after having gotten lunch and playfully wasting the afternoon with a friend, when he received a phone call. he answered it without giving too much thought, expecting an invite for drinks, as was usually the case when he heard from jeonghan. he put it on speaker and set his phone on his kitchen counter, leaning against it as he ate.

"hello?"

"minnie!" he had said, the smile obvious in his voice. seokmin responded with a short greeting before jeonghan continued. "are you busy tonight?"

"just watching tv," seokmin said, spoonful of fried rice in his mouth. "why? you feeling lonely?"

"something like that," jeonghan said. the architect must have been in the car, he thought briefly, hearing the static noise of wheels on pavement in the background every time he spoke. "listen, you remember y/n, yeah?"

he nearly choked. "uh, yeah. of course. did you think i would forget?"

"not really," he said matter of factly. "we're currently heading home after that exhibit opening and she's been asking about you all day. any chance you can get to my place in half an hour?"

seokmin blinked, staring at nothing as he processed. "tonight?"

a laugh. "yeah, tonight. she's been really sweet lately, i thought you could be her treat."

her treat. "right now?"

"yes," jeonghan laughed again. "right now. if it helps the decision making process, i've had my hand between her legs this whole time and she gets needier every time you talk."

seokmin swallowed harshly, imagining you squirming in the passenger seat of the car, huffing and desperate, begging for him with jeonghan's fingers curled into you. he adjusted against the counter, his pants suddenly feeling slightly tighter. "i'll get a cab."

then he heard you, your signature whiny moan as jeonghan no doubt worked you into a mess despite his even tone as he spoke. "y'hear that, sweetheart? he said yes. i'll pay for the cab when we get there. see you soon?"

"yeah," he said, eyes still unfocused. "yeah, see you soon."

after jeonghan asked you to be an angel and hang up for him, seokmin stood and looked around at his leftover fried rice and the drama that continued playing, remnants of his simple life that he found plenty enjoyable and fulfilling on its own, but fell to the shadows as you came into the light.

the cab ride felt too fast, and jeonghan's car pulled into the driveway of his luxurious home only minutes after seokmin arrived. he emerged from the door of the cab and stood in the late november air as the other car parked, the passenger door swinging open in a hurry.

"seokmin!" you squealed, heels clicking against the drive as you ran up to him in a shoulderless, long sleeved jewel toned dress that was not at all suited for the current temperature. your arms wrapped around his neck and he laughed into the hug. "i missed you."

"it's practically snowing," he chided, pulling away to wrap his coat around you, and you happily fell into his chest. he didn't stop you when you pulled his face to yours, kissing him briefly but deeply. you tasted familiar, memories of eating you out entering his mind as he thought about how jeonghan had likely made you clean his hand in the car, and despite your forwardness and his generally shy nature, it wasn't the winter air that sent chills up your spine when he muttered "i missed you, too," against your lips.

"okay, kids, get inside while i pay the nice driver," jeonghan said, holding out your coat to seokmin. he took it, draping it over your bare shoulders. you grinned at him, working your fingers between his and leading him towards a side entrance of the home.

he felt a flash of embarrassment, wondering what the cab driver must have thought about the interaction he was witnessing, but seokmin figured that he had probably seen much stranger and decided to not worry about it, especially when you were regaling the events of the evening.

"they were playing classical," you groaned, punching in the door code with the hand that wasn't fiddling with his fingers. "from a cd. at a modern art exhibit. what part of that makes sense?"

seokmin laughed. "is that why you were thinking about me?"

you smiled as he followed you through the doorway, revealing a grand kitchen with a large island countertop. he had been here before, but on halloween, when it was full of life and the counter was covered in food. "jeonghan may have let me watch some videos," you said, and seokmin felt heat rising on his neck as he thought of you asking to learn more about him in his absence. you stepped out of your heels and walked towards the large fridge as you spoke, retrieving a water bottle. "that jazz piano number you did, jeonghan said it was at a bar? that would have been so much better, especially considering the artist's vision. his stuff was so full of life, i'm honestly surprised he allowed them to do anything other than live jazz - classical was too stuffy."

"it was a commentary," jeonghan reminded you, closing the door behind him as you offered a bottle to seokmin. "juxtaposition of traditional museum atmosphere with outlandish architecture and colorful, emotional art pieces," he said, sounding rehearsed. "the music was supposed to feel stuffy compared to the visuals."

"you guys worked too hard to settle for that," you shot back. you may have held a little resentment for the fact that jeonghan hadn't even asked for your opinion on the matter, considering you were less than a year away from a degree in musical theory. "if i hear clair de lune at one of these unveilings one more time, i'm gonna tear my fucking hair out."

seokmin laughed, but jeonghan only gave you a tired chuckle, and only after you quirked an eyebrow at him. he should have known you were only acting impressed at the exhibit because you wanted seokmin around. jeonghan could be cruel, but not so cruel as to invite a friend over to make his lady's night, only to deny everyone the pleasure after he already arrived, and this was a fact about him you were completely aware of. now was your chance to act out with little to no sacrifice - the most he would do is punish you in bed, and that, you were willing to handle.

jeonghan tsked when he saw your laptop and schoolwork spread across the kitchen island. "didn't i ask you to not do this?"

you eyed the counter, noting the teasing tone he took. "not do what?"

"leave your shit in the kitchen. you have a whole room to do schoolwork in, make a mess in there," he scolded, clicking his tongue as he flipped a textbook shut.

"i work better in bright, open spaces," you said quickly. 

"i gave you a window to the sunroom."

"and i love it," you stated obviously. "and the desk you chose is nice, and the chair is super comfy, but it's still too dark in that room. it makes me want to fall asleep." you turned to the musician. "how have you been, seokmin? i haven't seen you in weeks, and jeonghan purposefully keeps secrets when you guys go out."

seokmin said close to nothing of substance as he said he was doing well and leaned against the kitchen island, focusing more on the way you shrugged the fuzzy coat off your shoulders and setting it in the counter to tuck your arms into his, wrapping them around his torso and resting your chin on his shoulder to give the man of the house a flirtatious look. jeonghan simply rolled his eyes at you with a faint smile on his face, taking off his own outer coat and going to hang it in a closet. you hummed as seokmin spoke about anything he could think of, smiling when you felt his gentle, hesitant fingers rubbing circles into the small of your back.

and that night, seokmin was perhaps too eager to secede control, allowing his friend to gently order the two of you to do whatever pleased him. currently, you were between his thighs as he laid out comfortably in jeonghan's bed, the architect fucking into you from behind as your voice went hoarse from sucking seokmin dry. his thick cock stretched your jaw to its breaking point, but your neediness for his cum on your tongue outweighed the soreness you knew you would feel the next day as you bobbed your head, your hands wrapped around what wouldn't fit. he choked, his fingers itching to reach out to you, but remembering jeonghan's firm words of no touching and gripping the sheets instead as he came into your mouth and you moaned around him. jeonghan had stopped you from swallowing completely, a hand around your throat as he pulled you against his chest, forcing your neck to crane around so he could share the treat. seokmin watched, hand involuntarily going to pump himself again despite the sensitivity, as his release dripped down both of your jaws between the feverish kisses. you whined, jeonghan continuing to thrust into you as he stole the gift seokmin gave you straight from your mouth, his fingers finding your clit, making your knees shake as he came in your pulsating cunt.

that was the first time in his life that seokmin had ever cum twice in one session, having been too turned on at the sight to even think about not having you ride his face, cum seeping out of your precious hole. too turned on by the way your fingers dug against his scalp and the way you tasted to even think about turning down jeonghan when he asked to touch him, groaning against your core as he slowly and teasingly jerked him off. too turned on by it all to even think about not cumming when he was told, fist clenching the now familiar sheets as you rolled off him, panting from the overstimulation. your face was wrecked, tearstained and flushed, as you collapsed into his side, wrapping your arms around his torso and burying your hot face in his neck, his own face not much better. jeonghan proudly announced he was off to take a shower, sucking a line of cum off his thumb before saying that you lovebirds were welcome to stay as long as you would like, fully expecting you two to continue without him as he walked to the bathroom. 

seokmin felt shy, for some reason, despite having just having taken a shower with you, and just before, having had sex with you both. you had asked him if he wanted sweats or a shirt to sleep in, saying jeonghan wouldn't mind if he borrowed some. he turned you down, but watched you tug a far too large shirt over your otherwise bare form, and let you lead him back to bed.

"it's a custom mattress," you told him, giggling as you pulled him onto the oversized bed, kneeing yourself to the center and plopping down next to where jeonghan was wasting time on his phone. you planted a kiss on his cheek and he looked up to smile at you before you turned back to seokmin. he noticed the duvet changed, and he wondered if jeonghan had swapped it out after the mess they had made on it. you maneuvered yourself under the covers, gesturing for him to join you. "c'mon," you said. "we cuddle here."

seokmin had never even considered the idea of spending the night in bed with two other people, but found it surprisingly comfortable for it being his first time.

he did a lot of firsts with you, as it turned out.

you started to text him when you were alone and bored, which was something you and jeonghan had discussed with the strict understanding that you would have open and honest talks about it frequently, and that you would let him know any time you reached out to the musician. the first time he ever had phone sex, seokmin was busy at the company he did contract work for, and he had even told you so after the first suggestive text you sent him, but that didn't stop you from sending him increasingly dirty ideas and photos, making him silence his phone and shove it in his back pocket as he tried to focus on his students. when he finally slipped away to a private bathroom, he groaned at the way you looked, laid out on a plush couch and squeezing at your own breasts, with your back arching just so, and he quickly called you to ask if you were trying to get him fired.

"maybe if you get fired, you can come work with me," you whined, fingers already teasing your slick folds just at the low tone in seokmin's voice. his mind whirring as you gasped suddenly, revealing that you had already started. "jeonghan's been too busy for me this week, please don't tell me you are, too."

seokmin's eyes squeezed shut, back hitting the bathroom wall as he pulled himself out of his pants, trying not to drop his phone from his ear as he imagined how absolutely delightful you must look in that moment. "i'm never too busy for you, baby."

jeonghan took him out to dinner. it was normal, mostly, and not the first time since seokmin had seen his dick, but he noticed the older was acting slightly different as seokmin turned the meat on the grill.

"about y/n," he said finally, and seokmin fumbled with a chunk of pork before clearing his throat.

"yeah?"

jeonghan smiled. "she hasn't said it yet, but i think she really likes you."

that made seokmin freeze, suddenly thinking about how he was at dinner with his undefined sext buddy's long term partner. "really?" he squeaked out.

"listen, i want you to know," he said, picking off some cooked meat and chewing it casually. "whatever happens between you two, i'm okay with it. she promised to keep me in the loop, and i trust her."

seokmin nodded, putting down the tongs and grabbing his chopsticks, continuing to avoid eye contact. "okay."

jeonghan laughed. "stop acting like i'm her dad. you and i are in the same relationship with her at this point."

he swallowed, a smile creeping across his face. "well, she does call you daddy."

the next time he saw you, you came to him, appearing at his apartment one early tuesday evening as his last client was leaving. he greeted you casually, but still snuck a quick kiss on your lips as he let you in, his student packing up their guitar. he took your winter coat and told you to make yourself comfortable as they finished up, telling you where the restroom was if you needed it, but in a tone that made you think he was saying it more to announce to his student that you had never been there before than for your comfort, which pulled a quiet giggle from you as he quickly organized his loose leaf sheet music into their designated folders. you watched him from the piano bench as he made short conversation with his student, accepted a check, and bid the aspiring guitarist farewell, closing the door behind them. when you were finally alone, seokmin blushed at the realization that you had been smiling at him the entire time, thinking about how his client must have thought their teacher had gotten himself a cute girlfriend.

you were less forward this time. less needy. you flirted, but not in the outright ways you had every other time seokmin saw you. you stood and joined him by a bookshelf as he put away materials, asking him about his day (quite lovely, especially with this to look forward to), what he had eaten for lunch (he'd gotten ox tail soup delivered as a celebratory meal for a student that just had their first solo piano recital that weekend), and how he managed to command authority in all his students when he always looked so darn cute (he had pitched his eyebrows at you and went "yah," but was unable to keep a straight face long enough to argue with you). you smiled, taking a baseball off the bookshelf and turning it over in your hands, and asked why he invited you over. he cleared his throat, saying he thought it'd be nice to take you out on a proper date, but faltered when your shining eyes caught his.

"a proper date?" you asked, smiling slyly.

"i- uh, yeah, i mean-" he cleared his throat, hand finding the edge of a table as he tried to figure out what he was trying to say. "people generally treat you in exchange for your company, right?"

"generally," you agreed, focusing on his standup piano on the far wall as you thought. "i don't want you to, though."

“i didn’t mean-” he stretched his jaw - a nervous habit that you had begun to notice - as he readjusted his approach, not wanting to imply that he wanted your exchange to be purely transactional. "i just wanna take you out. for real."

you gave him a small smile, knowing what was the case despite your teasing. "okay. it's a date."

to change the subject from one that seokmin clearly didn't know how to continue - and besides, you weren't hungry enough for dinner yet - you returned the baseball to it's display and asked him how he taught his lessons. he laughed, not because your question was funny, but because he didn't know how to answer it in a way that didn't sound like a pitch to a potential client.

"then teach me like a client," you demanded playfully, skipping to sit at the piano bench and turning to grin at him.

seokmin took a moment to look at you, with a knit sweater tucked in the front of a pair of loose jeans - a far cry from the tight fitting, short dresses he normally saw you in - sat in his apartment as the last remnants of sunrays dipped behind the skyline. "you know how to play," he said finally, but walking over to join you anyways.

"teach me like i don't," you said as he sat beside you, scooting over slightly to accommodate. "i'm very good at acting incompetent."

he laughed again. "normally, people pay me for this kind of time, but i'll give you an intro. we'll start with hand placement," he said, gently putting his hands on the keys. "starting position is important, even though you'll be moving around the keys a lot when you actually play. your thumb," he said, wiggling his right thumb and smiling when you giggled. "it starts on c. that's your root."

"oh, right," you vocalised, placing your right hand similarly an octave up from his. "music has a bunch of letters, huh?"

"only the seven," he joked, pulling his hands off the keys as you comfortably set your fingers where they belonged, a motion you clearly made often. "wow, are you sure you're a beginner? you picked that up fast."

you knocked him with your shoulder, giggling. "quick, what do i do next?"

he smiled. "try pressing the keys in order. c to g, thumb to pinky. be firm, this isn't an electric keyboard. it can sense fear."

you sucked on your cheek, smiling at the way seokmin explained things as you played, but used your pinky to strike the black key instead of g, giggling at the flat note. "oh, that sounded wrong. this piano must be out of tune."

"stop," seokmin said teasingly. "beginners don't have that kind of pinky dexterity, by the way."

"maybe i'm a prodigy," you said, grabbing his sleeve with both hands excitedly. "you have to teach me, mr. lee! you're the only one that can help me hone my gift."

"stop it," he repeated, laughing, giving you a fake glare. he put his hands back on the keys. "lesson over."

you pouted, but it was short-lived as he began to play. you watched his hands effortlessly move over each other as you listened to the gentle flowing melody. despite being classically trained yourself, back when you were young and your parents felt you needed the discipline of regular lessons, you found yourself being impressed by his deft finger movements. your eyes shut, and you let your temple fall to his shoulder as you listened.

"yiruma," you said when he stopped playing despite the song not being over.

his arm went over your head, allowing you to lean into his chest as he planted his hand on the bench behind you, your eyes still shut. "you know your stuff."

"it's one of my favorites." you smiled, eyes fluttering open again. "you play well."

your breath stopped in your throat when you realized how close his face was to yours. "have to. people pay me to teach their kids."

"jeonghan pays me to be nice to him, doesn't mean i'm good at it."

seokmin couldn't help but laugh. "how did that even start, by the way? he would never tell me when i asked."

you sighed, straightening your posture. "i suppose you should know, considering this is becoming a regular thing."

"you don't have to if you don't want to," he assured quietly. you smiled at the thoughtfulness. "i'm just curious, is all."

"i don't mind," you said, shaking your head gently at him. you inhaled, organizing your thoughts - this wasn't a subject you explained very often. "i had a scholarship for the first two years of uni, but i would have to pay tuition afterwards, so i decided to become a paid escort to save for it." you paused to study seokmin's reaction, but for the first time from someone other than jeonghan, you found no creased brow, no vague frown. no judgement. "men would hire me through a broker to accompany them to dinner, go to parties, the general stuff. i even played golf a couple times - terribly, obviously, but rich men really enjoy teaching young pretty women how to play golf. i always got a cab ride home at the end of the night, though. never did anything more. jeonghan was one of my clients."

seokmin nodded. "how long did you do that for?"

despite how you would normally take that question, you knew he meant no shame in asking. "ten-ish months? jeonghan was only for the last month or so, though."

"before he asked you to quit?"

you laughed lightly. "actually, someone else asked me to quit. this guy that had been hiring me regularly for almost my entire career. he wanted me to date him properly. i think he wanted a trophy wife. he was young, like, only a few years older than me, and he was nice, y'know? a little awkward in the beginning, but paying someone to go out with you is always a little awkward, and we got comfortable with each other pretty fast. he wanted to take the next step with me, but he wanted the end goal to be marriage."

seokmin adjusted as he thought. "but you said no?"

"i said yes." his wide eyes made you laugh, but you understood his shock. "i was ready to quit anyways, i guess?" you shrugged, shaking your head. "i wanted to go on real dates instead of getting paid to eat with men my parents' age. yukwon felt realistic to me. someone i could see myself with." you sighed. "i went out with jeonghan during my last week of escorting. when i told him i was quitting, he asked me to choose him instead."

he watched you when you paused, pursing your lips. "and then you said no?"

you giggled, bumping against his chest as he laughed with you. "i tried! but jesus, when that guy gets an idea." you shook your head again. "he asked how much yukwon was paying me - which he wasn't, by the way. we were going to do it for real, even though he was still gonna support me financially and pay for my schooling. i was gonna sign a prenup and everything - but jeonghan kept saying he would double it. said i didn't have to marry him, and that he just wanted to keep spending time with me, and if i wanted to call it quits later, i could. no pressure, no sex, no commitment… he gave me a choice, and i realized i didn't love yukwon. i thought i could, but i didn't."

"so he saved you?"

"from a lifetime of settling? i guess so. he's funnier, too," you admitted sheepishly. "i always had the most fun on nights i was with jeonghan."

seokmin smiled. "he is good at lightening the mood."

"and," you said, eyes wide. "he didn't even want us to be exclusive, said i could keep escorting or go on dates with other guys if i wanted, as long as i promised to make time for him when he wanted me. it was kind of the perfect arrangement."

seokmin nodded again. "was, being the operative word?"

you laughed, remembering how well he knew jeonghan. "lasted less than a month. we spent too much time together, and i quickly realized that every time i went out with someone else, i wished i was with him. to be honest, when i met you, i thought this would be a one time thing, so i may have tried to make it seem a little less involved than it is." you sighed. "we never really defined what we were. i think we've both always known that he was more than a sugar daddy to me, but he does basically pay me so that i can keep my schedule open for him, so i guess it's easier to tell people that? instead of everyone assuming i'm some gold digger taking advantage of his money?" you shrugged. "i do love the guy. i'm about 94% sure he loves me, too."

that made him laugh. "how long have you been together?" he asked, trying to figure out the timeline in his head. he had known about jeonghan's relationship with you for quite some time, though not the exact nature of it, or that you were so fantastic, for the mass majority.

"about a year. right before halloween, actually," you said, smiling as you leaned into him. "you were technically an anniversary gift."

his lip quirked upwards, watching you. "was it a good gift?"

"the best," you whispered, placing a slow kiss on his lips. your hand went to his sharp jaw, and you sighed against him as the kiss deepened, suddenly feeling needier than you had previously.

"does he know you're here?" seokmin asked quietly, mind flashing back to when him and jeonghan had gotten dinner together. "like this, i mean."

you nodded slowly, a hand on the bench to steady you as you leaned into him further. "he's in japan this week, told me i could see you as often as i want. just asked that i call him when i can, we spoke this afternoon."

"promise?"

you giggled. "you act like i would risk it. i like you too much, and you know he would make us both regret it if i was seeing you behind his back."

he examined your face, a smile on his lips, knowing it wasn't the part of the statement that he was meant to focus on but unable to think of anything else. "i like you, too."

so he kissed you, sitting on the piano bench in his loft apartment, and despite it being nowhere near the first time, something about it felt special. new. different.

later, though much sooner than later would imply, when the two of you were unable to stop yourselves from undressing each other, he had you seated firmly in his lap on the couch in his living room. the way he filled you out made you incapable of doing much outside of digging your hands in his hair as he rolled his hips up into yours, rambling about how perfect you were. how well you took him. how he had never seen anything as breathtaking as the way your brows stitched together and your mouth hung open as he fucked you. you huffed, twisting your hips slightly, triggering a groan from you both.

"so beautiful," he muttered, hands on your bare hips, rubbing circles into the soft flesh above the bone. "fuck, you're incredible."

"shit, seokmin," you exhaled, forehead falling on his. you knew he wasn't even using all his length, but he was thrusting deep enough into you to make you see stars. "god, i'm close."

you watched his tongue dart out to wet his lips as he focused on you, pulling himself off the couch and sitting up straight as his hips steadily rolled into yours. "come on, babygirl. you know i love the way you feel."

you cursed, arms winding around his neck as you pressed your chest against his, desperately kissing him as you felt yourself falling over the sweet edge. he groaned when you squeezed at him, arms wrapped around your waist, fingers gripping any amount of you he could as he worked you through your bliss. he only slowed to gently put your back to the couch, your legs wrapped around his waist as he curled over you, arms under your body to pull you into his chest, and a hand at the base of your neck to hold you steady as he firmly fucked you into the cushion.

"fuck, baby, you're so good to me," he groaned, forehead pressed just under your jawline, his mouth latching onto your neck as soon as he managed the words. you were gasping for air, arms over his shoulders, wondering if seokmin always made love this deeply and genuinely, or if you were just special.

afterwards, he discarded the condom that he insisted on using (you asked what the point of you getting something shoved into your cervix was if you couldn't enjoy his particularly bountiful creampies with no consequence, but he said he was not getting cum on the couch his clients sit on), pulled his underwear back on, and returned to you quickly, kissing up your body after pulling your panties back over your hips. you ran your fingers through his messy hair, causing him to look up at you. he said sorry, a laugh on his lips, asking if you wanted to get food delivered instead of going out.

"that sounds perfect," you giggled. "don't apologize."

"i'll take you out for real this weekend, i promise," he said, sitting up and stretching out his shoulder. you watched, quietly admiring how gentle and soft he seemed, with surprisingly firm muscles hiding under his usual large sweaters and shirts. "and i'll pick you up so we don't get tempted. but for now, kimchi soup and bibimbap?"

you nodded excitedly, sitting up to wrap your arms around him and planting a kiss on his shoulder. "sounds delicious."

he tried not to get excited by your touch, thinking about how you had said this was becoming a regular thing, and therefore he didn't need to get as much of you as he could before you slipped through his fingers like he had the first few times you met. he couldn't help himself, though, when his eyes met yours and you smiled gently at him, and had no choice but to put an agonizingly slow kiss on your lips before he stood to announce he was changing into something comfortable if you were just going to stay in. you giggled and grabbed your sweater from where it got discarded, pulling it over your head as you told him there was no chance in hell you were putting jeans on again before the morning, and he smiled at the implication that you would be staying the night with him.

"i have lessons tomorrow," he reminded you softly as he gathered up his clothes and walked to the stairs. "if you'd like, you can stick around, but it'll be boring."

you hummed. "i don't have class, but i should do schoolwork," you mused, watching him walk up the steps to what you could assume was his lofted bedroom. "it's been lonely at the house, though."

"if you wanna bring your things here, you can," seokmin suggested, his voice projecting easily through the space. he pulled on a pair of shorts and a more casual shirt than the one he had been wearing for his work day. "it would give you something to do while i teach youths how to play chopsticks. do you stay at jeonghan's when he's not around, too?"

you laughed, thinking about your all but abandoned apartment as you meandered towards the stairs. "lately, yeah. i used to spend more nights at home than in his bed, but he gets really busy planning stuff in the winter and has less time to take me out." you stretched your back. "i think he likes knowing i'll be there when he gets home late. makes the day easier." 

seokmin nodded as he came back down, running a hand through his hair, thinking that he, too, would find his days easier if it meant going to bed with you every night. "that's very kind of you."

"it's selfish, i promise." he laughed. "if you saw how tiny my place is, you would choose jeonghan's too. besides, i get cold in bed alone."

he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest. "is that why you're here?"

you giggled. "no, i'm here because you invited me over. but that might be a factor in why i'm staying," you teased, hugging him tightly.

the next day, you were sprawled on his bed, writing an accompanying essay for your composition project as he taught lessons down below, only emerging to refill your water glass and use the restroom as infrequently as possible, trying to not disturb his lessons. parents often accompanied the children, usually reading a book and listening to their child practice. a college friend of his stopped by, as he tried to do at least once a month, accompanying his niece, and seokmin recalled that he was the one that had given jeonghan his number again over a year ago, feeling like he should thank him but not knowing how.

"seokmin," you called down softly when you heard him chatting casually with his friend. you padded down the steps with your empty water glass, spotting the young girl at the kitchen table with a marker and a sheet of paper, smiling when you remembered her slightly clumsy, but surprisingly advanced keystrokes, considering her age.

"what's up?" seokmin asked, pushing off of the counter he was leaning against, and he ignored the quick, questioning nudge mingyu pushed into his side.

"hi, sorry," you said, waving lightly when you noticed the tall man beside him. "i was wondering - if you have time - if you could listen to my composition piece and tell me if you think it leans more romantic or more post-great war?"

seokmin nodded. "absolutely. do you need me now, or can it wait ten minutes?"

"it can wait," you assured, eyes darting between the two men. you lifted the glass in your hand. "i needed a break."

he smiled, taking your glass and moving to pull open the fridge. "this is mingyu, by the way. mingyu, y/n. he's an architect, also."

"also?" mingyu asked, eyeing you. seokmin stared at you, realizing what he said.

your brows ruffled as you studied the tall man's face, not recognizing it. "we must not be in the same social group. i'm a friend of jeonghan's."

he gave you silent thanks for keeping the relationship ambiguous. mingyu, however, nearly yelled. "yoon jeonghan?" he laughed. "you know, i didn't even see that guy at his own halloween party. you still keep in touch, i assume, seokmin?"

he nodded, putting your filled water glass on the counter beside you, and you wondered how you never saw mingyu at the party, either. "yeah, we hang out fairly often."

"he introduced us," you interjected. mingyu smiled between you two. "thought we'd match well, i guess."

"well, you just asked a music teacher to review your composition, so," mingyu laughed. "he was right?"

seokmin studied you with a crooked smile on his lips. "have you ever known yoon jeonghan to be wrong?"

you stayed another, more innocent night, but when seokmin woke the next morning, his face was pressed against the side of you neck, and you were pushing your ass back against his morning wood.

"fuck, good morning," seokmin groaned, hands gripping at your hips where they had already been aimlessly floating.

"oh, thank god you're awake," you panted out. you spun in his grasp, pushing his shoulder back on the bed and climbing atop him. "you must have been having a fantastic dream, because you would not stop touching me."

he couldn't help the whine in his throat, mostly from embarrassment. "i'm so sorry."

"don't be," you rushed out, peeling off your shirt. "i just need you now."

considering this was his third time seeing it, he didn't think he would be so awestruck still, but the snapshot of you, topless, seated on his lap with your hands on his chest was a view that seokmin would likely never get over, because it felt like he was the dorky, awkward protagonist and you were the long-shot love interest that was way too cool and way too hot for him in this cliché coming of age comedy.

you kissed him, and he pushed your hips down to grind against his lap, pulling a gasp from your lips. he took the opportunity to bring a hand to your neck, pulling you into open mouth kisses. you moaned without shame as you rolled your hips.

"you know what jeonghan told me?" you asked, pulling back to tug his underwear just far enough down to release the member you couldn't stop thinking about. 

you straddled his lap, hands on your thighs. seokmin pushed his bare cock against your core, the wet fabric sticking lightly to his length. "what, baby?"

"he told me he wanted you to plug me up," you breathed, biting your lip when seokmin used a thumb to pull aside your underwear and drag your wetness across his dick. you moaned. "he wanted you to fuck me senseless and tell him all about it."

seokmin groaned, neck stretching out. "i can do that."

"no, baby," you said, bringing his free hand to your face and putting a kiss in his palm before you lifted yourself up, his thumb still hooked on your panties as you rubbed the head of his cock through your folds. "i wanna fuck you."

you sunk down onto him, jaw dropping. he smiled lightly, running his hands down your thighs. "i'll let you if you can."

your toes clenched, and you tried to maintain face. "i can."

seokmin folded his arms under his head, trying to avoid the temptation of fucking up into your warmth. he sighed, breathing out a "go on, then."

you put your hands on his chest and bounced on him several times, biting at your lip at how wide he stretched you out, but taking too much pride in the way his eyes hung half lidded and his breathy groaning to stop. 

your hands went to his neck, leaning forward, lifting his head slightly off the pillow to kiss him, his hands falling from behind his head to hold yours, stopping you from pulling away. 

he moaned into your open mouth, and you backed up for only a second to blearily meet his eyes as he panted. "baby."

you nodded, stealing a few more messy kisses. "yes?"

he groaned again, your hips twisting over his. "you're like a dream."

you could feel the heat radiating off your neck and cheeks, but you just pushed on his chest to sit upright, hands landing on his thighs. you moaned again, unapologetically, as you rotated your hips over his, and he bucked into you at the angle change. "if this is the dream, please don't wake up."

seokmin had a sneaking suspicion that he was in love with you, or at the very least falling towards it. the confirmation of this fact threw itself in his face, not when you proved that you could fuck him, sitting deeply on him to push his cum further in, or when you squealed and giggled as he threw your back onto the bed so that he could pull your underwear off proper and bury his tongue in your heat, but afterwards, when he wandered into the kitchen after using the restroom and found you wearing one of his shirts, waiting as his electric kettle bubbled to life, his favorite blue mug on the counter beside a white one - the white one, he realized, with the finger heart design that he had chosen for your coffee the day prior. and he told you so, rushing to explain himself and assure you that you didn’t have to say it back, but you just hushed him and smiled, saying that you loved him too.

seokmin had to go to the entertainment company that afternoon. you walked with him to the station near his apartment and he sat you in a cab, a kiss on your lips, before he hurried down to catch his ride to work. he breathed heavily when he could finally lean against a wall in the train, having to run to catch it before the doors closed.

seokmin❣️: almost didn't make the train 🙃

you: but you did!!! proud of you 👍

seokmin❣️: thanks 🥴💕

you were both smiling after that.

he took you out to eat that weekend, as promised, and you had honestly forgotten what it was like to date people that weren't jeonghan. you liked riding the subway with him (you couldn't even remember the last time you took it), and you thought it was cute that he let you stand against a wall to keep easy balance as he stood in front of you. you were slightly impressed that he barely rocked with the movement, only grabbing an overhead loop when the train was pulling into a station.

"wait, you're especially pretty right now," he said suddenly, leaning forward to inspect your eyes.

your head hit the wall gently in reaction, flushing at his comment, wanting to bury your face in your scarf. "thank you."

he gave you his signature crooked smile. "of course."

it was cold out, but seokmin wrapped his hand over yours, shoving the whole ordeal into his coat pocket as he walked you down the street towards the restaurant he had picked. you giggled, squeezing his hand in his pocket, but he just continued telling you about which of the trainees he was working with seemed like they would debut.

"jiyoon composes, too! i'm really impressed with her actually," he said, trailing off when he saw the sign for the restaurant. "ah, here it is."

you thanked him when he held the door open for you, and you were immediately struck with the smell of tomato, cheese, and bread.

"i haven't had pizza in ages," you said excitedly, following him to a table.

"don't tell me," seokmin said, helping you take off your jacket and hanging it on a hook at the end of the booth. "you guys don't order pizza?"

you shook your head, sliding into the booth comfortably. "not often. jeonghan likes asian food."

seokmin froze as he was pulling off his jacket to stare at you. "what about you?"

"i like eating."

he laughed. "well, i like pizza."

after dinner, you insisted he come back to the house with you. he said he didn't know, thinking that you would probably need your energy for when jeonghan got home the next day. you pouted, knitting your fingers with his as the two of you stood on the sidewalk outside the pizza place.

"but i really wanna show you my record collection," you said, batting your eyelashes at him.

that was all it took.

you discovered that there was a bus stop near jeonghan's home, and while you would likely never take a bus without seokmin, you thought it was a good nugget of information to tuck away as you marched through the front door of the estate you practically called home.

"welcome to yoon manor," you joked, spinning to smile at seokmin.

he looked around, and despite having been here before, it felt grander coming through the main entrance and without the distraction of party guests. he had seen it empty briefly, from a different angle, when you were pulling him up to your bed a few weeks prior, but he realized he hadn't actually been able to see much when you were the focus of his attention.

"the kitchen's that way, there's a bathroom," you said, pointing at the opening past the stairs as you pulled off your scarf. you folded it over your arm as you walked further into the home, seokmin following you closely. you walked past a partial wall, pointing further down the hall that held the secondary living space that he originally met you in. "there's a bathroom to the left there, and if you go to the end of the hall there's an open sunroom."

seokmin looked around the room you stood in, recognizing it in bits and pieces, but it looking much different without a crowd and flashing lights.

"and this is the living room," you said, spreading your arms as you spun to him. "tv, couch, bar, and most importantly," you giggled, tugging him towards the far wall of the room, which was covered in deep toned shelving, speakers, and a record player. "my record collection."

you took off your jacket as seokmin looked around in awe, noticing you had select autographed records displayed alone on picture ledges with spotlights pointed at them. one picture ledge was empty, centered just above the player. you tossed your coat into the couch, pulling seokmin's off his shoulders as well, despite his distraction.

"these are all yours?" he asked, turning to look at you after you had discarded the coats.

you nodded, spinning the felt of the record player mindlessly as you looked around. "i actually had started a collection years ago, but i couldn't make an excuse to spend the money on it very often. jeonghan gave me a pretty good excuse. also, whenever he pissed me off, he knew he could take me to a record shop and i would forgive him."

seokmin laughed. "does that happen a lot?"

"not as often as you'd think, considering what an ass he is," you teased. you gestured to the collection. "this is my baby, though. the house is his, but this wall is mine."

"well, play me a record," seokmin requested plainly, making you smile into a laugh.

"okay," you said, scooting past him to pull out one of the many cube drawers amidst the shelving. you flipped through a few. "dancing music?"

seokmin watched your hands, humming. "slow dancing, but, like, in a nostalgic discoteque."

you thought for a second, then closed the drawer to move to a different one, quickly flipping through and finding the record you wanted. you pulled the lp out, putting the bright blue sleeve with five smiling men on the empty picture ledge.

seokmin wrapped his arms around you as you set the record, striking the play button and enjoying the whirring as the lp spun, the needle connecting and the speakers scratching to life. you spun in his grip, laying your arms over his shoulders as he pulled you away from the record stand, into a more open space to playfully dance to the soulful bass lines and pop melodies of new edition.

"this house is insane, right?" seokmin asked, squinting at you as you laughed and nodded.

"it really is. the craziest part is he's still working on it."

"really?" seokmin looked around. "what else could he wanna change?"

you let your eyes wander. "i think it's a work in progress for him. the sunroom was brand new when we met, and he added this record display last winter, when i told him i always wanted to collect. the bar is new," you pointed. "he finished that in october. the kitchen was a summer project."

he blinked heavily, trying to register. "does he do all the work himself?"

"his team helps him," you explained. "he has a few contractors he works with and they manage the construction projects, but every once in a while i wake up on a sunday and he's cutting wood in the garage because he got an idea. he drafts all the changes, usually participates in the build, and picks most of the furniture, but he has people to collect the options for him."

"and he also does all that for other people, too?" you nodded, giggling. "and has time to take you to events almost every weekend?"

"i know. i didn't understand how he found the time until i realized that he just gets paid to do his hobby."

seokmin nodded. "me too, i guess."

you grinned. "me three. you should stay with us more," you suggested, rocking with him gently. "he'll be late tomorrow, but he's working from home this week…"

"hush," seokmin chuckled. "i have to work. besides, i'm sure he wants you alone after letting me claim you while he’s been gone."

"about that," you said, pulling away slightly to give him a cheeky smile. "i haven't gotten him to admit it yet, but i think jeonghan has a crush on you."

seokmin choked out a laugh. "what? me?"

"seokmin," you started, giving him a look. "he wanted you to join us for sex. more than once."

"okay," he scoffed lightly. "people have sex just for the sex sometimes," he pointed out, but in a tone that had no chance at convincing anyone.

"sure," you giggled. "but think about it. he kept me to himself all this time, and suddenly he's encouraging us to see each other without him? asking me about everything we do together..."

he swallowed. "everything?"

"everything," you breathed, eyes trained on his lips. "he knows i'll always go back to him, and i think he's hoping i'll bring you with me."

he blinked at you, processing. "is that what you're doing? bringing me back to him?"

"only if that's something you're interested in," you stated, cocking your head.

"him, you mean?"

you thought a second. "yes?"

you watched him blink repeatedly, seemingly considering the concept. he thought back to all the nights that became early mornings, laughing and joking with the architect since before he had even an ounce of notoriety. he thought of how jeonghan had reached out to him again a few long years later, and the way he had insisted on paying every time they got food. he wondered if there had been something happening that he hadn't noticed, his oblivious nature getting the best of him again. he thought about when things changed, when they met less often and jeonghan seemed quieter around him. and months later, when he started mentioning you.

"maybe," he said finally, mind whirling. "i don't know, i've never thought about it."

you nodded, putting your arms over his shoulders and swaying lightly to the music. "take your time," you said, smiling when his forehead pressed against yours. "we'll wait for you."

[multisfabulis]

Wayfinder’s Voyage

Oceanic (Chapter 1 | 2)

Word Count: 5785

I hope everyone enjoyed reading this! I'm honestly super anxious while I'm typing this because, not only is this my first fic in the KH fandom, this is also my first ship fic so I'm feeling a lot of pressure.

I want to apologize if the characters seem OOC in this, I was mainly going off of memory and a Wiki because I didn't want to sit through an entire LP of BBS just to get a few details accurate. It already took me a month and a half to write all of this and I didn't want to take up more time.

I do have more Terraqua fics in the works, as well as a couple other KH fics in general, but those will probably be posted way later. I just wanted to test the waters with this fic and see how I do so...

So some things to note:

*Both Aqua and Terra's first scenes in this fic were made entirely for the purpose of giving them build-up while not diminishing Ven's importance to them. I was already going to be fucking with canon a lot but I also didn't want to leave Ven to the wayside so I created those scenes. You'll see Terra's in the next chapter.

*I feel the need to apologize for the second half of the second scene because that still feels like word barf, even when I know why I wrote it like that. I hope the intention behind those words is still conveyed clearly but I'll understand if it's not.

*As for the last scene, I completely misremembered the sequence of events leading up to the end. I already knew that scene was going to be changed somewhat just for the context of the ship but I think it's pretty clear which parts I changed on purpose and which parts I was winging it. It's been years since I last watched that scene, it was super late into the night, this was my third rewrite, and I felt satisfied with my work before realizing I fucked up and decided to go along with it.

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     Today started out like any other normal day. Aqua woke up, did her morning regimen, and set off for the great hall to begin her studies. She and Terra, her friend/rival, were to train under the watchful eye of their master Eraqus in the hopes of coming one step closer to fulfilling their lifelong dream. They would one day surpass the rank of apprentice and become Keyblade Masters in their own right, something she wished would arrive sooner rather than later.

     Then came time for their daily duel. They would often spar with each other as a way of proving their capabilities in battle, seeing what areas they could use improvement in, and showing off the techniques they had learned from past fights. This seemed to be no different from their previous clashes.

     She was on the defense, blocking and deflecting each blow Terra threw her way with relative ease. He managed to find an opening she didn’t account for and all but jumped on the opportunity. He charged in, his Keyblade held high, and she only had a split second to raise hers in an attempt to guard against it. Yet, whether it was due to a miscalculation on his part or her just reacting too slow, he ended up hitting her unarmored wrist. She quickly backed away, letting out a cry of pain as both Keyblades were dismissed in a flash of light. Eraqus rushed over to check if she was okay.

     Terra was beside her with remorseful apologies spilling out of his mouth but she barely paid them any heed. Her eyes were focused on something much more alarming, something she knew Eraqus saw too. Emanating from Terra’s hand was an aura of Darkness, which vanished as soon as he noticed it. He tried to defend himself to Eraqus but the damage was already done.

     Their master had an almost zealous hatred for Darkness, believing it’d bring nothing but destruction in its wake, and sought to rid the Land of Departure of any, even if some laid dormant in his apprentices’ hearts. This was a constant problem for Terra, who always seemed to harbor enough to fall back on, be it consciously or not. For it to flare up during training, that drew Eraqus’s ire.

     It was hard not to feel sorry for Terra as he was being harshly scolded. It wasn’t like he was trying to use Darkness, at least not intentionally. She knew that it was only an accident but it wouldn’t help stop the shame he undoubtedly felt. He’ll probably curse himself for being too weak and letting Darkness in yet again once he thought no one was around, an occurrence she’s been privy to more than she had any right to be. She needed to talk with him once she had her wrist taken care of.

     With a hand on her back, Eraqus began leading her out of the great hall. She looked over her shoulder to catch one last glimpse of Terra before leaving. He hung his head in shame as he clenched his fists in what she believed to be anger. It was just as she expected. She turned her head back to face forward, hoping he wouldn’t blame himself more than he already was.

     They made their way over to the infirmary, where Eraqus gently took hold of her wrist to examine it. She could see now how bruised and swollen it was from the impact as she winced with every slight movement. He was able to determine she had a sprained wrist, which she regarded as a miracle. With the amount of force Terra had in his swing, she was thankful it didn’t result in a break. She was to keep it wrapped and iced for a couple days till it healed, something she had no problem with.

     After it was bandaged, she was told to take it easy until then. She asked Eraqus about Terra and he said he’d have a talk with him once enough time had passed for things to settle down. There was an undercurrent of regret in his voice, made even clearer by the expression on his face. Their master may be strict but he still cared for them, similar in the way a father would for his children. This gave her some hope in that he realized what happened was an accident and he’d forgive Terra. Time would only tell.

     She spent the rest of the day in the library. She figured she’d get some studying done if she couldn’t practice with her Keyblade for the next few days. Try as she might, though, she could barely focus on the words she was reading and that was if she didn’t reread the sentence to understand it. Her mind kept wandering to Terra, whether he was okay or not, and what he was doing right now. Worry gnawed at her heart until she couldn’t take it anymore. The sun was beginning to cast orange and violet hues across the sky when she decided and rushed out to find him.

     He wasn’t in the great hall or his room when she looked in. Searching all around the building yielded no results, either. She wondered where he could be, her anxiety growing as she saw night quickly approaching. He had to still be in the Land of Departure and the only place she hadn’t checked yet was the mountain. She ran out to the Forecourt and then beyond its boundary.

     Stars were twinkling into existence by the time she reached the winding path leading up to the mountain. If it weren’t for the lights set alongside the dirt road, she would’ve been stumbling about blindly in the dark. It was when she arrived at the overlook just before the summit she found him.

     His back faced her as she saw that he was sitting on the edge of the cliff. Taking a few steps closer revealed him to be looking down below the mountain with an indiscernible expression. It was troubling to see him like this. What happened earlier today had to be weighing heavily on his mind.

     Tentatively walking forward, she called out, “Terra?”

     He stiffened and quickly turned around to face her, asking a barrage of questions like, “Aqua, are you okay? How’s your wrist? Is it bad? It’s bad, isn’t it?”

     “No, no, it’s all right, see?” she replied, showing him her bandaged wrist. “Master said it was only a sprain and that it should be okay in a couple days as long as I took it easy.”

     He let out a sigh of relief, no doubt feeling some of the guilt be lifted off his shoulders. “That’s good. I don’t think I would’ve forgiven myself if I managed to break your wrist.”

     “Well, you didn’t, so don’t beat yourself up over it, okay?”

     Silence fell between them. She noticed him staring at her wrist with clouded eyes, despite her assurances of being fine. Before she could think of a way to broach the issue at hand, he spoke up.

     “Aqua, I’m…I’m sorry about what happened earlier. I swear, I didn’t mean to hurt you, it was an accident, and---”

     “I know, I know! You don’t need to apologize, I know you would never try and hurt me,” she interjected, trying to comfort him. “I’m more worried about you and how you’re doing after Master had those…words with you.”

     He averted his eyes from her. It wasn’t the first time she’d seen Eraqus scold Terra like he had before and those always left him feeling horrible with himself. She was used to being the one to get him back to normal but something told her this wouldn’t be as easy as previous times.

     Turning away from her, he said, “I deserved it. Master was right, I could’ve seriously hurt you.”

     “But you didn’t and that’s what matters,” she replied.

     “I was wielding Darkness, Aqua!” he exclaimed, taking her aback. He ran a hand through his hair before continuing on, “I thought it was gone. I thought I had it under control but I guess I don’t. Maybe it never left.”

     “Terra…” She walked up to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “It’ll be okay. You’ve gotten rid of Darkness before, you can do it again. You just have to---”

     He brushed her off. “What if I don’t? What if I’ll always have Darkness inside me?”

     “What are you saying?”

     “Maybe I’m not meant to be a Keyblade Master. Maybe I’m just destined to fall into darkness. It’s my fate to lose my heart and become a Heartless.”

     “That won’t happen, Terra. You’re strong enough to resist it and---”

     “What if I’m not, Aqua? How else would you explain why I keep having Darkness come out of me? You can’t, can you?”

     To her horror, he was right. There was no way she could explain why Darkness lingered inside him, even with the numerous attempts to rid himself of it. It wasn’t because he had a weak heart, that much she was certain. So what was the connection between the two? Was Terra right in that he was destined to fall into darkness, either by losing his heart or some other means?

     The thought rocked her to the core. She didn’t want to believe his fate was to be lost in a hellish abyss until he was put out of his misery. He was her dear friend and he deserved so much more than being reduced to a lowly Heartless. She refused to accept it, which was why she decided to do something about it.

     “You won’t fall into darkness, Terra,” she affirmed, stepping around him to meet his gaze. “I know it.”

     “How? How can you be so sure?” he asked.

     “Because I won’t let you.” She took hold of his hand in a gentle yet firm grip. “I promise I won’t let you fall into darkness.”

     He seemed genuinely shocked by her words. She meant what she said and she planned on upholding her promise. It may be hard and it may even be treacherous at times but it’d all be worth it if he remained in the light.

     “And, if you do fall, I promise to always guide you back home,” she added, giving his hand a squeeze.

     “...You have that much faith in me, huh?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

     “Why wouldn’t I?” She cupped his cheek. “You’re my friend, Terra, and I know you’re strong enough to resist its temptation. I’ll just be there to remind you every so often.”

     He said nothing, instead deciding to pull her into a hug. She was surprised by this, seeing as how he wasn’t a very affectionate person, at least in the physical aspect. She was about ready to question him on why he was doing this when she heard him whisper in her ear:

     “Thank you, Aqua, for believing in me.”

     Her heart fluttered in her chest from the sincerity in his voice. She could sometimes be slow on the uptake but this had to be a new record. It was only now she realized just how much her vow must’ve touched him and how badly he must’ve been feeling before she showed up. She was glad to have cheered him up some. Thus, she returned the hug and answered,

     “You’re welcome.”

     Terra wasn’t going to fall into darkness, not if she had anything to say about it. He won’t be led astray. She’d be his anchor to the realm of light. A promise is a promise, which she wholly planned to keep.

     Aqua breathed in deep and touched the tip of her paintbrush on the small piece of glass sitting in front of her. Drawing it upwards left the top half in a pretty shade of cyan blue. She continued to paint with delicate and meticulous strokes until she was satisfied with her work. The bottom half was then covered in a dark blue, which almost matched the ocean she imagined in her mind. Once the piece of glass was completely painted over, she gingerly picked it up and set it aside to dry. One down, four more to go before she moved on to the next phase.

     She was in the process of making her Wayfinder. She already crafted two others that happened to be sitting off to the side, one in amber and one in green. She hoped to give them to Terra and Ven soon once she was done creating hers. Seeing as how she and Terra were meant to have their Mark of Mastery exam in the near future, they were meant to be good luck charms and Ven was getting one simply because it’d be unfair if he was left out. They also had another purpose to them, something she thought was rather poignant and was the main reason she wanted them.

     Wayfinders were said to be designed after star-shaped fruit called Paopu, which were also said to tie friends together. If they carried these on them, nothing would drive them apart. They’d even help find one’s way back to them if they were ever lost. It may be silly of her to believe in this but it struck a chord within her when she first heard it and, in some ways, she wanted it to be true.

     The question of what would happen after she and Terra aced their exam had weighed heavily on her mind for some time. Eraqus had told them they could either travel beyond the Land of Departure and expand their horizons or succeed him and protect their world from Darkness. They hadn’t decided yet but she wondered what the aftermath of her choice would be. Would she choose to leave or stay? Whatever it may be, it meant Terra would have to contend with the other. Maybe the reason this was troubling her so much was because a part of her deep down was afraid of losing the two people she considered to be her best friends.

     She knew she had nothing to be scared of yet she worried all the same. It wasn’t like the bonds she shared with Ven and Terra were so weak, they’d break upon setting foot outside their home. Their strength would remain steadfast, even if the three of them were far apart from each other. She just needed to remind herself of that whenever she was lost in her thoughts.

     The last glass piece was painted and she put it beside the others to dry. With that out of the way, the next thing to do would be setting the five glass pieces into place and soldering them to the frame so they wouldn’t fall out when she held the Wayfinder facing up. It was too late to do it tonight but she would get straight to it after her training tomorrow.

     She glanced over to where the other two Wayfinders were sitting. She stood up from her desk, reached her hand out to grab them, and sat back down. They shone brilliantly under the golden light pouring in from her window. A lot’s happened over the last few years.

     She never thought Eraqus would take in another apprentice but it was at the behest of an old friend so that’s how Ventus came into the picture. Fragile was the best word to describe him when they first met, like he could collapse at any moment. It fit him even more when he actually did from Terra’s bombardment of questions, falling into an almost come-like state for several days. Her skepticism as to whether he was capable of becoming a Keyblade Master only grew when Eraqus said he was amnesiac and that was why he fainted. How could someone like him become Master when he was so weak, for lack of a better term?

     Yet he managed to prove her wrong. The more time he spent with the two of them, the stronger he got, to the point he was able to keep up with them in battle. He wasn’t as powerful as Terra or as magically gifted as her but he made up for it with swiftness and sheer tenacity. The only reason he wasn’t taking the Mark of Mastery exam along with them was because of his age, though she believed it was also due to him needing to outgrow some things, like his rebellious streak for example. He’d be a great Keyblade Master one day, she was sure of it.

     Terra’s changed so much over the years. He was no longer a child struggling to keep his head above water as he flailed his Keyblade about. He’s grown into a strong and capable man she was proud to call her friend and rival. He’d be her fellow Master in due time as well and then they’d stand together to protect both theirs and many other worlds from Heartless someday. At least, that’s what she envisioned before things somehow became different between them.

     She couldn’t quite explain what changed between her and Terra. It wasn’t like the way they interacted with each other was different from normal. They still met up every day to talk and train so that couldn’t be it. The only thing she noticed was…well, things she had never really noticed from him before. Not that they were never there but they were only starting to make themselves known to her.

     Before Ven, she’d only seen three sides to Terra. The dutiful pupil to their master, the reliable confidant to her, and the introspective self-doubter when he thought he was alone. It was only after Ven entered their circle she saw the kind and protective side of him, almost like he was an older brother to him. She always knew those qualities existed within him but it was different seeing them in action to someone other than her. It’s only now she’s really acknowledged them.

     He was still her friend but there was a deeper meaning now. Her feelings towards him were different than her feelings towards Ven and maybe that was because she’s known him practically all her life as opposed to the four years for Ven. Maybe all this was was her growing up and becoming an adult, which meant changing feelings and realizing that things were going to be different for her now, whether she liked it or not. Throw in the anxiety of potentially drifting away from him and she was left with a jumbled up mess of complications she struggled to put a label on.

     All this was doing was giving her a headache. She should be focusing on the road ahead instead of thinking herself into a corner and letting her mind run wild. She’s so close to accomplishing her dream and she couldn’t risk anything jeopardizing it. Whatever answers she wanted, she’d find them after becoming Master.

     She looked down at the Wayfinders still held in her hands and pressed them close to her chest. She let out a heavy sigh as she tried to calm herself. Different was new but it didn’t have to be bad. Change was a part of everyone’s lives and she and Terra were no exceptions.

     Things may be different between them but it didn’t mean they were bad. It could mean they were good and she just couldn’t see how yet. As long as they were together, nothing truly bad would happen. That’s what she hoped.

     Aqua sat at the end of the dock, watching the sun set over the horizon. A warm, pleasant breeze was blowing through, carrying with it the strong scent of salt. She could hear the ocean’s waves rolling along the sandy shore and leaves from the trees behind her rustling. This was everything she imagined a beach to be like. The only things missing from it were Terra and Ven.

     The Destiny Islands was what this world was called. She only stopped by with the intention of taking a short rest but it was after reality began to sink in she had to give herself something more than that. She needed a moment where she could think clearly, decompress, and just breathe. She needed this before going back out there and starting the whole process over again. That’s where she was now.

     Where did it all go wrong? She finally managed to achieve her dream of becoming a Keyblade Master but it felt like a hollow victory when it turned out Terra failed the exam on account of his Darkness flaring up again. Then she was asked by their master to keep an eye on him in case he strayed too close to darkness, which she didn’t agree with but knew it was out of concern for him so she followed. It was through that she learned of the questionable acts seemingly committed by Terra and it caused her to doubt him and his resolve. When she met up with him and Ven at Radiant Garden and she revealed the truth of her being there, their trust in her was shattered.

     Then she found out Ven was being hunted down by a masked boy, who had ties to Master Xehanort. He’d been pulling strings behind the scenes and he was dragging Terra along for the ride. An encounter with the masked boy in Neverland left her exhausted yet she still trudged on before arriving here. All she was trying to do was make things right so why did it turn out like this?

     Maybe she wasn’t cut out to be a Master. They were supposed to keep the balance between light and dark, protect the worlds from malevolent forces. If she couldn’t even protect her best friends, the two people she treasured above all else, then what good was she? Eraqus was wrong in making her a Master, much less his successor. She never should have become one.

     She took out her Wayfinder and just held it. The orange hue of the sunset washed away the once vibrant blue into something dull and dark. Her heart grew heavier the longer she looked at it, running her thumb over the token in the center. Nothing would drive them apart, huh?

     It was never that she thought of Ven as weak or doubted his capabilities. It was never, ever that. She just wanted him to be safe, to be unharmed because she knew she couldn’t always be there to save him. There was a part of her that still viewed him as the fragile boy she first met who fell comatose from one too many questions. Sure, he’s grown much stronger since then, but she felt the need to protect him regardless. He was her dear friend and she wouldn’t know how to live with herself if he got hurt and she wasn’t there to help him. She’d rather have him hate her for being overbearing than risk losing him because she wasn’t cautious.

     She wished she could express how sorry she was to Terra. She vouched for him to Eraqus, swearing he was strong enough to resist the dark temptations, yet hearsay was all it took for her to lose faith in him. Xehanort’s machinations framed him as someone he wasn’t and she fell for it so easily. It honestly pissed her off that he was manipulating and taking advantage of Terra and his trusting nature. While he wasn’t exactly innocent in this, it was clear as to who the real mastermind was. She wanted so badly to apologize to him, to tell him she should never have doubted him.

     Her grip on the Wayfinder tightened as she felt her eyes beginning to burn. Did they have theirs still, she wondered. She wanted to believe they did but was it childishly naive of her to cling to that narrow hope?

     She was a horrible friend to them. She caused one to lose faith in her and she may as well have betrayed the other. She may have pushed Ven too far away for him to come back and drove Terra further into the darkness. She wouldn’t fault them for wanting nothing to do with her anymore. She wouldn’t, either, if the roles were reversed. Were their bonds now severed?

     No, they couldn’t be. The magic she placed on each of their Wayfinders was still active and she could still feel Terra and Ven’s hearts through hers. That had to be her silver lining in this. Even if the cord connecting the three of them together frayed till it was only a thread, that thread was unbreakable.

     She needed to protect them. She couldn’t let Xehanort and that masked boy do whatever they wanted with them. They wouldn’t hesitate to save her if she were in the same position so she shouldn’t, either. They were precious to her, she’d do anything, even give her life, if it meant they’d be safe.

     She stood up from the dock, Wayfinder still in her hand, and looked up at the now starry sky. She didn’t know where they were but she didn’t need to. Her heart was going to be her guiding key.

     They needn’t worry much longer. She was going to find them and the three of them were going to stop whatever Xehanort had planned. Then they would share one more night under the stars, like they had all that time ago.

     May they find a way to each other once more.

     Aqua watched on in horror as the man in front of her stabbed his Keyblade into his chest. She wanted to cry out his name but she couldn’t find the strength within her to do so, having thoroughly exhausted herself from their fight earlier. His body went slack, his Keyblade vanishing into thin air, as a portal of swirling darkness opened beneath him. He fell back and, quickly realizing where it led to, she dove in after him.

     She had to save him. It may not have been Terra, not completely, but his heart was still in his body, she just knew it. Why else would he have let her go when he was so close to finishing her off? She couldn’t leave him to wander in the Realm of Darkness for all eternity. Even if it meant bringing Xehanort back, she’d never forgive herself for doing that to him if he was still in there. She made him a promise and she was damn well going to keep it.

     The first thing she noticed was how cold it was. It wasn’t freezing but it was still too chilly for her liking, evident from her shivering. She felt like she was stuck in an empty black void as she searched around for any sign of Terra. She was eventually able to find a dim light just a few meters below her, a light she recognized as his. Summoning her Keyblade, she changed its form to that of her Glider and raced towards the light, not once taking her eyes off it.

     It didn’t take long to reach him. The light grew dimmer and dimmer the closer she got before dimming completely upon seeing him. He looked to be just sleeping, even when he was plummeting straight down to what she considered to be hell. She grabbed onto his arm and struggled to lift him onto her Glider, only managing to accomplish that feat by sheer force of will. Giving him a quick once-over revealed no visible wounds and he seemed to be breathing normally. Relieved that he was physically all right, she turned the Glider around and began heading back up.

     She had him and he was going to be okay. They would be back in Radiant Garden soon and she was going to fix him. She and whoever else could help her were going to find a way to get Xehanort’s heart out of him. Then she and him would go home and wake Ven up, like she said they would. They’d be together again. Their master may be gone now but they’d have each other to lean on and support. The hope of them being reunited again was the only thing keeping her going at this point. After everything that’s happened, she needed this to come true. She almost wanted to pray to whatever power there be to grant her wish, to give her this.

     Well, a deity or some other higher being there was heard her and sneered. Her heart dropped once she saw the portal they came in from starting to close. They were still so far away and it was shrinking with each passing second. It would be gone by the time they reached it, leaving them stuck in the Realm of Darkness with no way out. She looked over at Terra’s unconscious form and, knowing what had to be done, made her choice without any hesitation.

     That was when it hit her. She finally found her answer and she wanted to scold herself for taking so long to realize it. She finally knew what Terra was to her and it was so easy, so simple to understand that there was really no excuse. He wasn’t just a friend to her, he was more than that, he deepened beyond that. It was only natural, in some ways, for her to have fallen for him.

     She loved him. She loved everything about him, from his ability to want to see the good in people to his devotion to her and Ven. She can scarcely remember a life where he wasn’t a part of it nor did she want such a life. He was irreplaceable, someone she confided in, a man she could talk to about anything without fear of judgment. He was her rock, her dearly beloved. She loved him, which was why she was able to decide on her fate with little regret.

     She was going to take his place. Her promise came out of a love different from what it was now but she planned to uphold it all the same. Her love for Terra was stronger than her hatred of the man possessing him and she couldn’t bear to leave him behind to die in a hellish wasteland. It only hurt to know she wouldn’t be there to help guide him back home, to her and Ven.

     She disembarked from her Glider and went around to the side. Terra appeared to be holding onto the handles somewhat, which seemed to be the only reason he was staying on it instead of falling. She brushed the back of her hand against his cheek before resting it on his, giving it a gentle squeeze. She was going to miss him when she was gone but this was for the best.

     “We’ll meet again someday.” She squeezed his hand again. “Even if so much time has passed, we’ll meet again.” She was giving both him and herself false hope. “I’ll always be with you, okay?” She didn’t believe she would find a way out. “Goodbye, Terra.”

     Then she let go and began falling. She didn’t take her eyes off him once as she fell, even when it became too dark for her to see him clearly. She wanted him to be the last thing she saw if she were to possibly die in the next few moments. She only wished she could’ve amended things between her, Terra, and Ven before their grand battle in the Keyblade Graveyard but she was resigned to contend with this. She’d be okay with taking that regret to her grave.

     Tears rolled down her cheeks but she smiled through them. She saved him from a fate of wandering the dark realm alone. She hoped Terra would win out in his fight against Xehanort and reclaim his body as the image of him finally disappeared from her sight. Maybe, just maybe, they’d meet again in the next life.

     She closed her eyes as she let the darkness overtake her. It was then she heard herself say those three little words that carried with them so much meaning. Whether she said them aloud or she only imagined she did, it didn’t matter. All she wanted was for those words to reach Terra’s heart, to let him know why she did what she did. That was her last thought before succumbing to the cold.

     “I love you.”

[passionate-reply]

Are you tired of Great Albums being about music people have actually heard of? Do you want me to just go ape shit, and review obscure minimal wave cassettes from the 80s? Admittedly, Oppenheimer Analysis’s New Mexico is one of the most famous weird minimal wave cassettes, and for good reason: it actually holds up quite well as an album! Come check out what all the fuss is about. Transcript below the break.

Welcome to Passionate Reply, and welcome to Great Albums! Today, I’ll be talking about a very cultish cult classic, and an album that’s one of the definitive works in the very underground scene of so-called “minimal wave”: New Mexico, the only full album released by the duo “Oppenheimer Analysis.” The band’s namesake was actually lead vocalist Andy Oppenheimer, who became acquainted with instrumentalist Martin Lloyd at the 1979 World Science Fiction Convention, where the pair bonded over speculative fiction, Midcentury graphic design and propaganda, and the work of early British electronic pioneers like the Human League. 1982’s New Mexico was these two’s first recording as a group, but Lloyd did go into it with one credit--the year prior, he and David Rome of Drinking Electricity released a double A-side, featuring the jumpy, playful instrumentals “Surface Tension'' and “Connections.” They referred to their act as “Analysis,” making it feel very much a part of the Oppenheimer Analysis story.

Music: “Surface Tension”

Oppenheimer, meanwhile, was a true outsider artist, making a living as a nuclear science writer without any substantive musical background. While not all minimal wave is “outsider music,” and not all electronic outsider music is minimal wave, there’s certainly a correlation there. Oppenheimer’s reedy, somewhat strained voice lends New Mexico the punkish charm that only utterly untrained vocalists can offer: a vessel that cracks and buckles as it fails to contain the raw emotion within.

Music: “Martyr”

The addition of a singer is one major distinction between New Mexico and Lloyd’s earlier compositions, but they’re also very different in tone. As I said earlier, the “Analysis” instrumentals are sort of light-hearted and sprightly, a bit reminiscent of the jazzy synth experiments of artists like Jean-Jacques Perrey and Gershon Kingsley. New Mexico is substantially darker and more gothic, as befitting an LP that’s at least partially a concept album about the nuclear age.

Music: “The Devil’s Dancers”

While nuclear anxiety is an indispensable theme of the album, it’s never a suffocating one that makes it feel horribly antiquated to modern ears. It’s a very aestheticized rumination on nuclear themes, that never jumps up and hollers, “bombs are bad!” Take, for example, the track “Radiance,” probably the best-known track on New Mexico...to the extent that any of them are that well-known. It’s one of the album’s most languorous, atmospheric moments, and paints a vividly desolate picture of ground zero after a detonation, with its fluttering, delicate, but ultimately frigid synth flourishes.

Music: “Radiance”

I think my favourite part of “Radiance” is actually its lyrical turn: an atomic blast isn’t like the radiance of a thousand suns, but rather, vice versa. The latter is the one that’s merely theoretical and dwells in the realm of poetic license, whereas the former is a historical fact that we all have to contend with. “Radiance” is quite solid, but in many ways it’s a pale imitation of the title track, a seven-minute sprawl that works exquisitely as a kind of musical landscape painting:

Music: “New Mexico”

Painfully evocative, with an eerie, almost yearning undercurrent, “New Mexico” is easily the track that feels the most grand and epic. I would really have loved for it to be given more of a place of honour in the tracklisting, possibly as the closing track, but it’s wedged somewhat awkwardly in the middle of the second side. I suppose we can’t expect quite as much from a gonzo underground mail-order cassette release, though. At any rate, while “Radiance” and “New Mexico” are absolutely about atom bombs, they remain very emotionally intimate--almost torturously so. A lot of the other tracks are less about the bomb itself, and more about the rise of “Big Science” in the Midcentury consciousness in the wake of the Second World War--chiefly, “Men In White Coats.”

Music: “Men In White Coats”

As in “The Devil’s Dancers,” Oppenheimer happily accepts the role of an evil or insidious narrator here, and sells us this megalomaniacal perspective with aplomb. A lot of early 80s synth, minimal wave and otherwise, is characterized by more deadpan vocalists, but I can’t stress enough how much Oppenheimer’s piercing lead vocals bring to this album. It’s perhaps the most critical on the tracks that delve into more traditionally emotional topics--chiefly, the standard romantic love numbers. Take, for instance, the harrowing, neurotic “Scorpions”:

Music: “Scorpions”

I’m certainly a fan of the title “New Mexico,” which just ties together all the right connotations. First and foremost, New Mexico is a place--a place you can visit. And this is one of those albums that really wants to ground you in a narrow and specific sense of place, a sonic landscape. New Mexico is mostly empty desert, large tracts of which have been government land even before it started being used more intensively for military research in the 20th Century...most famously, of course, on nuclear weapons. I like to think that the name also suggests novelty and recency of place. We are, after all, entering a “new” world, defined by the advances of science, and the upending of earlier ideas about the world.

The representation of the album art for New Mexico that I’ve been showing you is actually the imagery of the 2010 reissue of the album, which I’ve chosen because I think it’s a bit better known, and I simply prefer it, personally. The most striking thing about it is this colour--a ghostly green, that instantly evokes the common imagery of atomic phenomena. Radiation doesn’t really glow green, of course, but, like everything else about the album, it’s clear that this choice is meant to be a reflection upon the greater cultural imaginings and social impact of the Atomic Age, so I think it’s a perfect fit. At the center of the composition, we see a figure, head bowed and face shaded to provide some sense of anonymity, reaching a hand towards the side of his face in a gesture that’s almost reminiscent of using a cell phone at first glance. What exactly he’s up to is as unclear as his identity. Between the modernist styling of the architecture to his left, and his antiquated attire, the image is quite suggestive of a Midcentury setting. But the real narrative angle here comes from the right side--several figures are approaching that central character, possibly in hostile pursuit. Espionage gone wrong? A desperate attempt to silence a whistle-blower? Much like the music, there’s an ambiguous, mysterious, but also menacing ambiance to this cover.

For historicity’s sake, I’ll also discuss the original cover of the homemade cassettes of New Mexico. As we might expect from the nature of this release, it’s a fairly simple graphic, featuring a nude woman whose full-figured body type, popular on pin-up models, and short hairstyle convey that Midcentury aesthetic almost as well as her clothed counterpart on the reissue. Our eyes are naturally drawn to her exposed breasts, where they meet a pair of radiation warning signs censoring her nipples. A simple image, but a deeply perverse or twisted one. Is it a kind of union between the vulgar, crass profanity of pornography, and the depravity of atomic weapons? Is it a visual representation of the way Oppenheimer Analysis have beautified the nuclear landscape, conflating man’s inhumanity to man with something voluptuous or pleasurable? This cover is at least as complex a symbol for the album as the reissue one is. And while it’s easy to dismiss it as lowbrow, I think it’s worth noting how the salacious or saucy aspect of it would have helped it fit in with other underground cassettes of its era, many of which had lurid or provocative imagery.

Of course, this discussion of the differing incarnations of the album is a natural segue to addressing the release history of New Mexico. The story of Oppenheimer Analysis is deeply entwined with that of New York-based Minimal Wave Records, founded in 2005 by Veronica Vasicka, a radio DJ fascinated by underground electronic music. The label specializes in making obscure, self-published works like New Mexico widely available in digital form, so that more music enthusiasts can get a chance to hear them. Without her, I myself might never have heard this album, and certainly wouldn’t be in a position to make a review like this! Vasicka felt strongly about the artistry of Oppenheimer Analysis, and gave the honour of her label’s first-ever release, “MW001,” to a self-titled EP compiling several of the tracks from New Mexico. Later, in 2010, when she was able to rerelease New Mexico in its entirety, she gave it the honourary designation of “MW001D.”

Vasicka is the one responsible for coining the term “minimal wave” to describe the subgenre she was interested in, and, fifteen years later, I think it’s safe to say it’s had some staying power. While it may be a bit vague and subject to individual interpretation, that’s a problem all genre labels contend with, and I think fans of minimal wave ought to be proud that this term was at least coined by a passionate and dedicated fan, who made her favourite music more accessible to everyone, as a labour of love. It’s also not the only genre term to come about much, much later than the music it seeks to describe. At any rate, New Mexico will always have a place in the minimal wave hall of fame, and it’s a genre-defining work, if in hindsight. The stylistic hallmarks of New Mexico are, for better or for worse, now also those of a whole movement: harsh, tinny rhythm machines, strident synth lines, anxious, unmannered vocals, and technological themes.

But what actually happened to Andy Oppenheimer and Martin Lloyd? In light of the renewed interest in their work in the 00s, they actually got back together for a bit, releasing some archival material from the 1980s and laying down a handful of new tracks, very similar in style to those on New Mexico. Lloyd passed away suddenly in 2013, but Oppenheimer has remained interested in keeping their ideas alive. He’s been performing live as well as putting out new music, first as “Touching the Void,” alongside Mark Warner of Sudeten Creche, and more recently as “Oppenheimer Mk II,” with Mahk Rumbae of Konstruktivists.

Music: “You Won’t Disarm Me”

Something that I think really stands out about New Mexico, especially when compared to a lot of other small-time minimal wave releases, is that it’s a very consistent quality throughout. As you might expect with an underground genre, a lot of the music to choose from is varying degrees of amateurish and clunky, and it’s arguably better to listen to Minimal Wave compilations than the LPs that exist. New Mexico is an exception, though, and doesn’t have any particularly weak tracks. The favourite tracks cited by fans of the album tend to vary pretty widely. My top pick, though, is the album’s opener, “Don’t Be Seen With Me.” It’s a perfect marriage of dizzying, spiraling synth runs, and one of Oppenheimer’s most frenetic vocal performances, that creates a masterful portrayal of being swept up in infatuation with somebody you really shouldn’t be fooling with. That’s all I’ve got--thanks for listening!

Music: “Don’t Be Seen With Me”

[musicblogwales]

Q&A: Gwenifer Raymond Pre-Tour Interview 

Music Blog Wales are really honoured to have spoken exclusively with Welsh virtuoso guitar player Gwenifer Raymond before she embark’s out on her brand new UK tour, huge thanks to Gwenifer for agreeing to chat with us and all the best with the upcoming tour dates.

Raymond began playing guitar at the age of eight shortly after having been first exposed to punk and grunge. After years of playing around the Welsh valleys in various punk outfits she began listening more to pre-war blues musicians as well as Appalachian folk players, eventually leading into the guitar players of the American Primitive genre.  

She released her sophomore LP ‘Strange Lights Over Garth Mountain’ at the end of 2020 to rapturous response. Her debut ‘You Never Were Much Of A Dancer’ emerged  on Tompkins Square to the same response in 2018. She has found herself equally embraced by fans of old-west and equally, by left field/experimental audiences. Appearances throughout the UK and the EU as well as the US marks her out as one to watch.  

Q: What part of Wales do you hail from and how has it geographically had an effect on your music?

Gwenifer: I'm originally from a village called Taff’s Well, so just north of Cardiff and at the tip of the Rhondda at the foot of the Garth mountain. I do think landscape can shape music quite a lot, and especially instrumental music. I think my own compositions have something of a folk horror element to them,which seems to me to reflect the overgrown, dark and witchy woods that I recall exploring quite a bit when I was growing up. I think perhaps that lends it somewhat more of the enclosed and gothic mood, as opposed to a more open and pastoral scene that you often hear in guitar songs.

Q: Your going on a UK tour this week, are you ready?

Gwenifer: Yeah I think so. It's been a while since playing a lot of shows on the trot, but I'm excited to be getting back to it. I find when I play the same set over a string of nights the music tends to find itself and evolve a little, so it's often where songs really find their feet. Given that I've not really toured this album properly, and a number of those tracks had never been gigged prior to recording it, it'll be really interesting to hear what happens to them. Q: How will you select songs for your live set?

Gwenifer: I usually choose my sets pretty selfishly along the lines of what I want to play. Invariably it'll be mostly the newest stuff with a few older tracks thrown in. Of course I try to pick tracks that will give the set as a whole a natural and engaging pace and dynamic. The big caveat to all of  this of course is tuning: I play in a number of different guitar tunings, and nothing stops a set in its tracks more than spending five minutes tuning your guitar - of course this is unavoidable, but I do try to group tunes together in order to minimise it. Q: Your latest Album is 'Strange Lights......' where and how was it recorded?

Gwenifer: This was recorded in isolation in my basement flat in central Brighton. I was booked in to record in a studio, but of course COVID put a stop to that- so instead I dropped the money I would have spent on the studio on some new mic’s and recorded it myself. I actually did it over a week's worth of evenings (whilst working my day job remotely from home during the day),recording a song or two per night. I spent the following week mixing, so it all came together pretty quickly in the end. Q: Do you have any tips and tricks for the avid home recording artist?

Gwenifer: Learn your neighbours' laundry schedule so you can avoid the rumbling of their washing machine. Beyond that, yeah just find the quietest and most comfortable spot you can in your home, invest in as decent a microphone as you can reasonably afford and just spend time playing with it; placement etc. Also, obviously most people don't have a fully audio-treated room to record in, but you can do a lot by hanging duvets etc. around you in order to absorb reflections. It's just practice really, training your ears to recognise what sounds good,what doesn't and what minor adjustments can be made to turn one into the other.

Q: In your own words how would you describe the music you produce?

Gwenifer: I guess it's just solo compositional guitar, with a gothic folk edge and twinges of early American blues, heavily informed by the alternating thumb technique predominantly used by early folk and Delta blues guitarist players. Q: Do you have any new music in the pipeline?

Gwenifer: I always do, but I'm a very slow writer. I live with a piece a long time before I consider it 'done'. Right now that's as true as ever and I'm working on some stuff which I may even start slipping into sets on upcoming tours. Q: What is your biggest inspiration for writing and staying creatively focused?

Gwenifer: It's listening to other music I suppose - any other sort of music really.To be honest I don't listen to a lot of solo guitar these days so I tend to be inspired by music completely unlike my own. I'm not sure if I'm creatively 'focused' exactly. Perhaps more creatively unfocused but ever so often a song falls out. I don't think there's a solid or consistent methodology that can be relied on for this sort of thing, it's whatever the little devil on your shoulder convinces you to do.

Just about anybody with an interest in the new school of American primitive will tell you that Welsh guitarist Gwenifer Raymond is one of its most promising proponents. “I’ve been blown away by Gwenifer Raymond,” says Jeff Conklin. 

Josh Rosenthal agrees: “She’s just a fascinating person—a great example of somebody taking the raw elements [of the style] and making them more personal.” - BandCamp Daily  

"Its intricate folk melody is Welsh and Celtic in style but American Old West in practice. The rhythmic patterns mimic the swift dynamics of a fiddle with a country twang. Western music was originally influenced by traditional folk music from England, Wales, Scotland, and Ireland; Raymond’s seamless crossover grows from these historically intersecting roots." - Stereogum   

UK TOUR DATES 

August 27 - Ara Deg Festival – Bangor 

September 03 – Larmer Tree Festival – Dorset 

September 04 – Maverick Festival – Suffolk 

September 07 – Cathedral Quarter Arts Festival – Belfast 

September 11 – Down At The Abbey Festival – Reading 

September 18 – The Castle Hotel – Manchester 

September 19 – The Continental – Preston 

September 20 – The Musician – Leicester 

September 21 – The Crescent – York 

September 22 – Brudenell Social Club – Leeds 

September 23 – The Old Cinema Launderette – Durham 

September 24 – Café #9 – Sheffield 

October 29 – Toy Museum – Brighton 

November 12 – King’s Place London Jazz Festival 

November 13 – The Wight Bear – Bournemouth 

November 14 – MAST – Southampton   

Watch: Sometimes There's Blood 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PfLJvXNeY-M 

Bleeding Finger Blues 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1pAm0uqkXAI  

Full web & label links Weblinks*  

https://www.facebook.com/gweniferraymondmusic/

https://gweniferraymond.com/

[howaminotinthestrokesyet]

Behind The Album: St. Anger/Some Kind of Monster

St. Anger

Metallica‘s eighth studio album was released in 2003 produced for the last time by Bob Rock. The record has largely been seen as the worst one ever released by the band. Some very troublesome issues led up to the making of this release beginning in January 2001 when Jason Newsted quit the group. He had come to the other band members as they began talks about a new album with the request to wait a year, so he could work on his side project band Echobrain . James Hetfield flatly refused in not allowing this to occur. He was rumored to say this at the time of Newsted’s request. “When someone does a side project, it takes away from the strength of Metallica", and that a side project is "like cheating on your wife in a way.” The bassist argued that Hetfield had contributed to the South Park film’s soundtrack, as well as to Corrosion of Conformity albums. The singer responded by saying that he never included his name to those titles and absolutely did not try to sell it. On January 17, Jason Newsted released a statement resigning from Metallica. He was quitting for “private and personal reasons, and the physical damage I have done to myself over the years while playing the music that I love.” Years later, Lars Ulrich would say in an interview that unfortunately Newsted had to be sacrificed in order to save the band. There existed deeper issues between himself and James Hetfield that still needed to be addressed. He further said that the band as it exists now is how they should have existed when Newsted was a member of the group.

Metallica still decided to proceed with a new album anyway as they hired Joe Berlinger and Bruce Sinofski to document via film the entire recording process. Three months later James Hetfield put the entire project on hold as he entered rehab for alcoholism and other addictions. He would get out of rehab in December 2001, but the band would not enter the studio until April 2002. Upon his return, he was only allowed to work four hours a day because the rest of his time was to be spent with his family. Due to Metallica‘s internal issues along with Hetfield’s return from rehab, the band hired a personal enhancement coach by the name of Phil Towle to work through their issues. For his part, Newsted would make the comment that the decision to hire a therapist was "really fucking lame and weak.” The day that he actually quit came after a 9.5 hour band meeting that would be the first one with Towle. All of this would be documented in the film Some Kind of Monster, which depicts Metallica almost breaking up in the most honest music film probably ever portraying an actual train wreck happening in front of your eyes.

In May 2002, the band actually sat down and started recording the actual album at what is called HQ, their own studio in San Rafael, California. The decision was made to have Bob Rock play bass on the album instead of hiring a new person immediately. They would record the record, then look for someone after the fact. James Hetfield would say this about the record. “There's two years of condensed emotion in this. We've gone through a lot of personal changes, struggles, epiphanies, it's deep. It's so deep lyrically and musically. [St. Anger] is just the best that it can be from us right now." From the outset, the group wanted to create a very raw type of sound to symbolize the state of their emotions over the previous couple of years. The album also represented another major departure for the band as they embraced aspects of nu metal, speed metal, and alternative metal. They worked with Rock to make an album that embraced an unpolished sound, which meant he barely mixed the recording at all. He would elaborate on the entire thought process of St. Anger’s production. “We wanted to do something to shake up radio and the way everything else sounds. To me, this album sounds like four guys in a garage getting together and writing rock songs. There was really no time to get amazing performances out of James. We liked the raw performances. And we didn't do what everyone does and what I've been guilty of for a long time, which is tuning vocals. We just did it, boom, and that was it." Another fateful decision came in the fact that Kirk Hammett did not play any guitar solos on the album. He would later say in an interview that they tried to use some, but it kept sounding like an afterthought rather than an organic part of the song. The biggest criticism of St. Anger represented the drumming of Lars Ulrich, who made the decision not to use a snare on his snare drum. Ulrich said, "One day I forgot to turn the snare on because I wasn't thinking about this stuff. At the playbacks, I decided I was really liking what I was hearing—it had a different ambience. It sang back to me in a beautiful way." This makes the drumming sound include a giant ringing noise throughout the 75 minute LP.

Metallica would release the new album in June 2003, but they did so five days ahead of schedule due to their ongoing battle with Napster. They did not want any songs to be illegally downloaded and leaked ahead of time. The release debuted at number one on the Billboard chart selling 417,000 copies in its first week. The lead single “St. Anger” would go on to win a Grammy for Best Metal Song. Three other singles were released with the second track “Frantic” going all the way to number two on the mainstream rock charts. Reviews by critics were mixed over the band’s new sound. They liked the raw passion found on the album, but they continually commented that it sounded terrible. Adrien Begran of Pop Matters had this observation. “While it's an ungodly mess at times, what you hear on this album is a band playing with passion for the first time in years." Other reviews remained positive like Rolling Stone praised the band for stripping down metal to its bare essentials without the need for solos, choruses, and any kind of structure whatsoever. Other critics were not so complimentary of the record. Pitchfork had this to say about it. Ulrich was “playing a drum set consisting of steel drums, aluminum toms, programmed double kicks, and a broken church bell. The kit's high-end clamor ignored the basic principles of drumming: timekeeping. Hetfield and Hammett's guitars underwent more processing than cat food. When they both speedstrummed through St. Anger, and most other movements, [Hetfield and Hammett] seemed to overwhelm each other with different, terrible noise. Also the duration of most songs made it boring to hear them." Ouch. Years later, Lars would still stand behind his decision about the snare drum on the album. James Hetfield also agreed that he would not change it, but did note that production mistakes may have been made. “St. Anger could use a little less tin snare drum, but those things are what make those records part of our history."

Some Kind of Monster

The minute the filmmakers came in around April 2001, Metallica seemed to be slowly imploding. There existed a definite tension between all the band members as they were struggling to come up with new ideas for music, while at the same time wanting drastically to get away from one another. One issue became an even greater snag when Hetfield left for rehab, but they continued to film Hammett and Ulrich’s therapy sessions. Berlinger would say this about filming those meetings. “Lars felt the therapy sessions were actually enabled by the presence of the cameras. He felt the cameras forced them to be honest." Upon Hetfield’s return from rehab, the singer wondered whether they should even continue filming the sessions, but changed his mind once he saw the raw footage. Elektra Records now began to become concerned over the rising cost of the filming and wondered whether they should turn it into a reality show. Metallica told them that they had envisioned a documentary film, so they bought the rights to it for $4.3 million. Hetfield continued to have some misgivings about various scenes included in the film. For example, Lars and his wife sell an art piece for $13.4 million at an auction, which he thought was “downright embarrassing.” The drummer would not relent on this saying that his passion for art is a vital piece of his personality. “If you're going to paint a portrait of the people in Metallica, that has to play a role, because that is who I am."

The documentary’s plot also included some very strange and surreal scenes. For one, Lars interviews Dave Mustaine of Megadeth asking him about the past. Another scene shows all three band members attending a live concert by Newsted’s band Echobrain, where you can see Lars complain about not being able to keep his own band together. As recording begins, Hetfield and Ulrich go to war with one another. The singer demands the conditions that any recorded material can only be discussed in his presence. The drummer comes back at him saying that he is too controlling which led to a major confrontation. Hetfield then says to the camera that his need to control everything probably stems from his fear of abandonment in childhood. For his part, Kirk Hammett always remained calm no matter what does to a lesser extent complain about the complete absence of guitar solos. Gradually, their chemistry begins to improve as they work toward the finished product. They begin to work a lot of their problems out by writing lyrics to individual songs. Ulrich is able to release some feelings about the Napster lawsuit by writing the lyrics to “Shoot Me Again.” As the band begins to get along much better, they stop listening to any advice from Towle. The group thinks that he has become too much a part of their inner circle, so the need arose to distance themselves from him. The therapist becomes very defensive when they approach him about restricting access. Towards the end of the film, they hire Robert Trujillo as their new bassist because they were scheduled to perform on MTV Icon. A bone of contention over the years was the fact that Trujillo’s $1 million signing bonus was included in the film. Upon the movie’s release, Some Kind of Monster received mostly positive reviews by critics earning an 89 on Rotten Tomatoes. Owen Gleiberman of Entertainment Weekly said this, “One of the most revelatory rock portraits ever made."

Lars Ulrich would say upon reflection that it was one of the first times that the band had actually communicated with each other without the assistance of alcohol. Dave Mustaine caused a little bit of drama as he denied the band from using any footage of his interview with Lars in 2001. They still included the footage because he had previously signed a release giving them access and the right to use it. The Megadeth singer would call this the “final betrayal” until six years later when they reconciled during a concert. At the time, Ulrich responded by saying this about Mustaine. “So put these three facts down, he was in our band for a year. He never played on a Metallica record [official release], and it was 22 years ago. It's pretty absurd that it still can be that big a deal."

[hellzyeahthewebwieldingavenger]

The lonliness of Eddie Brock

I’ve said in the past that Venom: Lethal Protector provided a not so great origin story for Eddie Brock regarding his father. I’ve also dived deep into Brock’s presentation in ASM #300 to talk about how it’s a lot better than people think.

But today something clicked and I’m going to try and present a take upon the character that uses his original origin in Lethal Protector and in ASM #300.

Before I start though, I’ll never concede that the origin given to Brock in lethal Protector wasn’t designed to make him sympathetic and jive with readers as an anti-hero. If you read that at face value and as intended, it doesn’t really line up with who Brock was in ASM #300, wherein he was clearly evil.

With that said let’s provide some context. 

So in ASM #300, Brock details his origin. He was a reporter for the Daily Globe and (according to him anyway) a respected one at that. One day he was contacted by Emil Gregg, man of faith (who like Brock seemed to be Catholic) who claimed to be the then recent religiously motivated serial killer known as the Sin-Eater.

In reality, Gregg was a mentally ill person who had the misfortune of living next door to the real Sin-Eater, Stan Carter. Carter recorded a voice journal and so when Gregg heard Carter through his bedroom wall he believed the ‘voices’ to be inside his head, becoming convinced that HE was in fact the real Sin-Eater.

Gregg confessed his believed guilt to Brock who wrote up a sympathetic article (or maybe more) which became incredibly attention grabbing. Initially refusing to give his source Brock eventually became pressured into doing so, writing a sensational article unveiling ‘the truth’. Mere hours later though the real Sin-Eater was apprehended by Spider-Man leading Brock to be fired and reduced to eking out a meagre lonely living by writing ‘venomous’ articles about scandals, alien abductions, etc, for rag publications.

Brock blamed Spider-Man for his misfortune and whilst obsessively exercising to relieve his stress, he envisioned murdering the wall-crawler. Things got so bad for Brock he seriously considered suicide, but his Catholic upbringing meant he couldn’t go through with it. Instead he prayed for salvation in a church, coincidentally the very same church that a while before Spider-Man had rid himself of the alien symbiote that had been his black costume. The symbiote sensed Brock’s feelings, and bonded with him. To Brock this was a form of salvation and the two became Venom, dedicated to avenging themselves on Spider-Man.

Much later, after several encounters with Venom, Peter Parker encountered Brock’s ex-wife Ann Weying who elaborated further on Brock’s life. As she explains it Brock worked so hard to be a star reporter because his father, Carl Brock, seemed to have little use for him. When Brock’s career blew up it was the final nail in his already bad relationship with his father. Ann claims that this in turn drove Brock to madness. They divorced after that.

We get similar, yet deeper information in Venom Lethal Protector #3, when Carl Brock’s elderly housekeeper relays the story of Brock’s life. As she tells the story, Carl Brock was an already emotionally repressed man, but his wife (Jamie) was his world. When Jamie died giving birth to Eddie whatever ability to love existed within Carl died. Thus young Eddie Brock grew up with no affection and little attention from his father.

This drove Eddie to excel in education and sports but each achievement failed to garner the affection and attention he craved from his father. His quest for his father’s love led to him becoming a crusading reporter. But even  when his sensational Sin Eater articles were being published, his father gave him little attention. Then when Gregg was exposed as fake, that ended Eddie’s relationship with his father altogether.

ASM #375 and Lethal Protector definitely frame the story with the intent of garnering sympathy for Brock, of trying to make you LIKE him. This makes sense as both were laying the foundation for Venom’s solo-stories where he was to be an anti-hero.

In this sense they seriously contradict the decidedly unsympathetic backstory given to Brock in ASM #300, where e is framed as a clear cut villain.

I’ve come around to the idea though that whilst there is 100% a cognitive dissonance between the framing of the two stories, they don’t actually contradict one another in the details.

That is to say nothing established in ASM #300 makes the events of ASM #375 and LP #3 impossible.

More importantly those events can I think be viewed as better explaining just Brock’s actions as relayed by ASM #300, and of Venom in general.

The stories already make it clear the defining motivation for Brock before he became Venom was all about his father. He was fruitlessly chasing his father’s affections and had grown up totally devoid of them.

On the one hand, when you are the child of a single parent and that single parent, whilst providing for you, is nevertheless neglecting you, it’s likely to screw up anyone.

But for Brock he practically hinged his whole career path on something that would impress his father. This is an idea expanded upon in Venom: Dark Origin #1 when Eddie’s father suggests he be a reporter expresses respect towards seeking the truth.*

The stories do not confirm this but, does it not make an awful lot sense that Brock’s desire for affection is what led to his actions with Emil Gregg?

Brock was highly unethical in protecting Gregg if he believed him to truly be the Sin Eater and his lack of fact checking was just plain sloppy.

But in the context of his relationship with his father it makes a lot of sense.

Gregg’s confessions were obviously going to be attention grabbing (especially if he wrote sympathetically of him) and his role in apprehending him would (in his mind) have earned his father’s affections. Additionally, it’s not uncommon for people in Brock’s situation to desire attention generally as well as from specific individuals so the Sin Eater story was great fuel for Brock’s self-esteem regardless.

It’s not hard to believe he was in fact so emotionally desperate for attention and affection he didn’t care about ignoring ethics or common sense practices.

If he was that desperate, his descent into madness also makes a lot of sense.

He wanted affectionate attention, and he wanted it specifically from his father.

But his actions resulted in him being isolated from the career he liked, reduced to work that garnered little-no attention/affection** and forever ended any hope of getting what he wanted from his father.

Then on top of that he lost his wife. Divorce is often a horrible experience in general, but when you are already at that low point it’d hit all the harder. And harder still if you are someone who’s grown up neglected and lonely, craving affection.

It’s easy to argue Brock’s fixation upon Spider-Man was simply a mental reflex against the hard fact that he’d so thoroughly ruined his own life. That his actions forever destroyed any hope he had of getting the one thing he wanted, and then also wrecked the other good things he did have.

But why Spider-Man particularly?

I think this again comes back to the issue of being attention grabbing.

Brock WANTED to be noticed, and more than this loved.

Spider-Man might have had a questionable public reputation but he was undeniably attention grabbing, he was frequently in the news (the field Brock used to be a part of and loved) and unless Brock cut himself off from all news sources, it’d had been impossible for him to avoid seeing Spider-Man.

Not only would this have reminded him of his own downfall (much as seeing Daredevil would have, as he was also involved in bringing in Carter) but there might’ve been resentment over the fact that Spider-Man was getting so much attention now he Brock was getting next to none.

Compounding things is the fact that Spider-Man wasn’t universally hated, he was talked about as being a hero. I think that’s why in the above pages from ASM #300 there is that scene where Spider-Man’s on the TV with the word ‘hero’ under it and a clearly unhappy Brock in the room. 

Spidey was getting attention and some affection from thousands or millions of people whilst Brock was getting none.

This resentment might’ve then grown into a hatred, a hatred Brock rationalized as the result of Spidey being responsible for ruining him, an appealing lie to tell himself and it absolves him of all blame.*** Also Brock’s religious background might also have fuelled his delusions. He was accustomed to taking things ‘on faith’ and ignoring contradictions to arrive at a truth he was comfortable with. Thus knowing the facts (that he ruined himself) became easy for his fragile mind to reframe as ‘I made a mistake but Spider-Man is at fault’.

Finally, growing up without a mother and little affection/attention from his father would naturally mean Brock had a certain sense of loneliness ingrained into him. This would’ve been seriously exacerbated when Ann left.

This can then explain the kinship he felt with the symbiote and the deep emotional bond they forged.

The symbiote is a life form who literally relies upon being with others. Loneliness will eventually kill it. And like Brock it craved affection, which rendered it a pariah amongst it’s own kind. Thus like Brock in the field of journalism, the symbiote was cast out for ‘unethical practices’ if you will. And like Brock it had recently been rejected by someone it loved and wanted to be with. For Brock that was Ann and Carl, for the symbiote it was Spider-Man/Peter Parker.

In one another they found kindred spirits. Two lonely wayward individuals, desperate for affection, but rejected by specific individuals they craved it from and by ‘their people’ more generally. Their health falling apart as a result of these circumstances they found a form of toxic salvation in one another.

I’ll be honest, I still don’t like Venom’s 1990s origin or Donny Cates’ new one for him. I stand firm that Venom should be a villain and his origin geared towards that end.

But I will say that I’ve now grown an appreciation of Lethal Protector’s take. I think it does develop the character and make him deeper, just not necessarily in a great direction.

*Dark Origin is a story that overwrites and contradicts older Venom stories but also plays with many concepts from them. As such, it’s at least food for thought going forward.

**Although ironically they were designed with that intent as they were scandal rags. Maybe ‘attention’ was a baked in theme for Brock’s character?

***Let’s also consider that as a journalist spinning a certain story would come naturally to Brock.

[bubblesandgutz]

Every Record I Own - Day 518: Hack The Rotten World Around Us

Sometime back in ‘92 or ‘93 I mail-ordered a bunch of records from Alternative Tentacles, and I impulsively added a 7″ by some random band called Hack to my order for no reason other than that the artwork looked fairly ominous and mean. The three songs on the Rawhead 7″ were indeed mysterious and vicious. I hadn’t heard any of the early Swans or Melvins material at the time, so I didn’t really have a reference point for Hack’s noisy dirges and growled vocals, but I was intrigued nonetheless. As my interest in metal-inflected punk stuff surged, I found myself coming back to Rawhead more and more often.

And there was something else about Hack that piqued my interest in a more abstract way. I was starting to get into hardcore, and it was exciting to discover this new world where there were all these hard-to-find limited-run records that achieved some kind of reverential status. Part of the allure of the underground was the relative obscurity of so many crucial records. Owning a Chain of Strength 7″ was like owning a badge saying “I was there before they were considered legends.” But for these scrappy low-budget records to achieve that status, they had to have a dedicated audience. They had to be popular on some level, which was really my introduction to the paradox of both the underground music scene and the world of record collecting. Bands and records had to be liked in order to have value, but if they were too liked, if they were too popular, they lost their mystique and a certain type of currency. So I became even more fascinated by Hack because I really dug them and no one else seemed to have any clue about them. They weren’t mentioned in zines. You didn’t see their name emblazoned on t-shirts. They were from some remote corner of the Earth (Adelaide, Australia) and only I seemed to know about them.

And over the years they faded even further into obscurity. They’re no longer mentioned anywhere on the Alternative Tentacles website. They’re not on streaming platforms either. Up until a year ago, there was only one video pertaining to their band on YouTube (there is now a full-stream of The Rotten World Around Us up on the site, bringing their total number of Hack-related videos to two). As I mentioned a few weeks ago, Hack’s singer Michael Farkas was better known for his tenure in the slightly-more-visible outfit Grong Grong, so it was as if Hack’s place in history was little more than a footnote of a footnote.

The artwork for the Rawhead 7″ mentioned that the songs were taken from the band’s full-length, so I began my search for the mythical Rotten World Around Us. It was the era before the internet, so I couldn’t find any info on the Australian label that put out the LP. By the time the internet became a viable resource for record shopping, Seaside Records had disappeared, as did any mention of Hack. I made my first trek to Australia in 2007, including their hometown of Adelaide, and I continued my search. No record store carried Hack records. No one had even heard of them. Sometime around 2010 I finally found a copy online for $20 and ordered it. The three songs from the Rawhead 7″ are still the strongest cuts, but the entire album oozes with these gross, repetitive, malicious riffs. It’s by no means my favorite record to throw on when I’m in the mood for nasty, throbbing sludge rock, but it’s one of my most prized records for no other reason than that I searched for so long to find this LP, and it seems to only exist in my universe.

Michael Farkas would later wind up in a wheelchair from a drug overdose, and afterwards Hack supposedly recorded a second full-length that veered more into the industrial stylings of Swans. This sophomore album never got a proper release and probably only exists on master tapes and a few dubbed copies given to friends of the band. If anyone has a lead on a copy, please let me know.

[where-theres-smoak-2]

Sorry, I saw this article about why the book Darkling is a great villain and burst out laughing. It’s just hilarious to me how some people still think his characterisation there makes any sense whatsoever. And I also can’t take anyone who thinks book!Alina is a good person,IMO: https://thecreativedominion.com/2020/01/29/crafting-the-perfect-villain-the-darkling/

(Book Spoilers!)

Yeah to be honest I love show Alina but just found I didn't like book Alina all that much at all. You're right its very difficult to see her as a good person. Not that I think she's evil or anything but there is something about her characterisation that I dislike.

See there are some things I agree with in that article and they make some good points about Aleks' character, these parts for example:

He cares passionately for the betterment and safety of his people. He is capable of leading well. He sees people’s talents and needs and how to address them. All of this is good and true. He desires many of the same things the heroes do, safety and improvement.

His methods are effective and benefit many more than just himself.

For the first two books, the Darkling is rarely the worst person in the room. There is the king, who abuses his power against many of the female servants, the prince who is so apathetic he lets the northern country invade while he rides horses for recreation, the Apparat who manipulates an entire religion for his own personal gain, and all the snobby higher ups who are content to sit by and watch people suffer. The Darkling is a horrible person but he’s set in a world where everyone else is by their apathy or selfishness. His motive for his terrible deeds is selfless. He wants a safe country for his people. Almost everyone else’s motive is selfish.

I agree with that last one in particular where it is talking about how he is rarely the worst person because you have the king, the prince and the apparat who are all about personal gain and selfishness whereas the darkling's goals and motivations are selfless. However I would make the argument that whilst these things are all true they not only make him a bad villain but they make it so he's not really a villain at all but more an antagonist. The funny thing is the author of the article says this about villains at the beginning: All too often they’re either pure evil to cartoonish extremes or they’re just boring and forgettable. We’ve all seen villainous characters go from phenomenal villain to poorly written villain in a single scene.

Here's the thing though this is exactly what I think happens with the darkling. In one scene he goes from a phenomenal 'villain' a character that is complex, who does morally grey things but who is sympathetic to a poorly written villain that is pure evil and cartoonish. That scene is when he destroys Novokribirsk in the books. I've said it before but in the show I understood why he did it but in the books it makes no sense and very much felt like it was written in just to reinforce the idea that this guy is the bad guy. After that scene the darkling continued to behave and be written as a moustache twirling cartoon villain and continued to do things that made no sense to his character. Things that just left me feeling confused and frustrated. Why would he attack Novokribirsk instead of Shu Han or Fjerda who are his actual enemies and who hunt and kill grisha? Why would he mutilate Genya for not killing Alina when he had made it clear that he wanted Alina alive? Why would he attack the LP when he was the one to build it and wanted it to be a safe place for Grisha? Those are just a few. Then apart from these overly evil and out of character actions there are the ones where we are told they are villainous but really they are very sympathetic and make you want to route for the darkling like throwing over the monarchy who lets be real are more villainous than the darkling. It's just very frustrating. I will agree with you I don't think the darkling was a well written villain at all.

[blackkudos]

Sidney Bechet

Sidney Joseph Bechet (May 14, 1897 – May 14, 1959) was an American jazz saxophonist, clarinetist, and composer. He was one of the first important soloists in jazz, beating trumpeter Louis Armstrong to the recording studio by several months. His erratic temperament hampered his career, and not until the late 1940s did he earn wide acclaim.

Biography

Bechet was born in New Orleans in 1897 to a middle-class Creole of color family. His older brother, Leonard Victor Bechet, was a full-time dentist and a part-time trombonist and bandleader. Bechet learned several musical instruments that were kept around the house, mostly by teaching himself; he decided to specialize in the clarinet (which he played almost exclusively until about 1919). At the age of six, he started playing with his brother's band at a family birthday party, debuting his talents to acclaim. Later in his youth, Bechet studied with Lorenzo Tio, "Big Eye" Louis Nelson Delisle, and George Baquet.

Bechet played in many New Orleans ensembles using the improvisational techniques of the time (obbligatos with scales and arpeggios and varying the melody). He performed in parades with Freddie Keppard's brass band, the Olympia Orchestra, and in John Robichaux's dance orchestra. From 1911 to 1912, he performed with Bunk Johnson in the Eagle Band of New Orleans and in 1913–14 with King Oliver in the Olympia Band. From 1914 to 1917 he was touring and traveling, going as far north as Chicago and frequently performing with Freddie Keppard. In the spring of 1919, he traveled to New York City where he joined Will Marion Cook's Syncopated Orchestra. Soon after, the orchestra traveled to Europe; almost immediately upon arrival, they performed at the Royal Philharmonic Hall in London. The group was warmly received, and Bechet was especially popular. While in London, he discovered the straight soprano saxophone and developed a style unlike his clarinet tone. His saxophone sound could be described as emotional, reckless, and large. He often used a broad vibrato, similar to what was common among some New Orleans clarinetists at the time. On July 30, 1923, he began recording. The session was led by Clarence Williams, a pianist and songwriter, better known at that time for his music publishing and record producing. Bechet recorded "Wild Cat Blues" and "Kansas City Man Blues". "Wild Cat Blues" is in a ragtime style with four 16-bar themes, and "Kansas City Man Blues" is a 12-bar blues.

In 1919, Ernest Ansermet, a Swiss conductor of classical music, wrote a tribute to Bechet, one of the earliest (if not the first) to a jazz musician from the field of classical music, linking Bechet's music with that of Bach.

On September 15, 1925, Bechet and other members of the Revue Nègre, including Josephine Baker, sailed to Europe, arriving at Cherbourg, France, on September 22. The revue opened at the Théâtre des Champs-Élysées in Paris on October 2. He toured Europe with various bands, reaching as far as Russia in mid-1926. In 1928, he led his small band at Chez Bricktop in Montmartre, Paris.

He was imprisoned in Paris for eleven months. In his autobiography, he wrote that he accidentally shot a woman when he was trying to shoot a musician who had insulted him. He had challenged the man to duel and said, "Sidney Bechet never plays the wrong chord." After his release, he was deported to New York, arriving soon after the stock market crash of 1929. He joined Noble Sissle's orchestra, which toured in Germany and Russia.

In 1932, Bechet returned to New York City to lead a band with Tommy Ladnier. The band, consisting of six members, performed at the Savoy Ballroom. He went on to play with Lorenzo Tio and also got to know trumpeter Roy Eldridge.

In 1938 "Hold Tight, Hold Tight (Want Some Seafood Mama)", commonly known as "Hold Tight", was composed by Bechet's guitarist Leonard Ware and two session singers with claimed contributions from Bechet himself. The song became known for its suggestive lyrics and then for a series of lawsuits over songwriter royalties.

In 1939, Bechet and the pianist Willie "The Lion" Smith led a group that recorded several early versions of what was later called Latin jazz, adapting traditional méringue, rhumba and Haitian songs to the jazz idiom. On July 28, 1940, Bechet made a guest appearance on the NBC Radio show The Chamber Music Society of Lower Basin Street, playing two of his showpieces ("Shake It and Break It" and "St. Louis Blues") with Henry Levine's Dixieland band. Levine invited Bechet into the RCA Victor recording studio (on 24th Street in New York City), where Bechet lent his soprano sax to Levine's traditional arrangement of "Muskrat Ramble". On April 18, 1941, as an early experiment in overdubbing at Victor, Bechet recorded a version of the pop song "The Sheik of Araby", playing six different instruments: clarinet, soprano saxophone, tenor saxophone, piano, bass, and drums. A hitherto unissued master of this recording was included in the 1965 LP Bechet of New Orleans, issued by RCA Victor as LPV-510. In the liner notes, George Hoeffer quoted Bechet:

I started by playing The Sheik on piano, and played the drums while listening to the piano. I meant to play all the rhythm instruments, but got all mixed up and grabbed my soprano, then the bass, then the tenor saxophone, and finally finished up with the clarinet.

In 1944, 1946, and 1953 he recorded and performed in concert with the Chicago jazz pianist and vibraphonist Max Miller, private recordings that are part of Miller's archive and have never been released. These concerts and recordings are described in John Chilton's biography Sidney Bechet: The Wizard of Jazz.

With jobs in music difficult to find, he opened a tailor shop with Ladnier. They were visited by musicians and played in the back of the shop. In the 1940s, Bechet played in several bands, but his financial situation did not improve until the end of that decade. By the end of the 1940s, Bechet had tired of struggling to make music in the United States. His contract with Jazz Limited, a Chicago-based record label, was limiting the events at which he could perform (for instance, the label would not permit him to perform at the 1948 Festival of Europe in Nice). He believed that the jazz scene in the United States had little left to offer him and was getting stale. In 1950 he moved to France, after his performance as a soloist at the Paris Jazz Fair caused a surge in his popularity in that country, where he easily found well-paid work. In 1951, he married Elisabeth Ziegler in Antibes.

In 1953, he signed a recording contract with Disques Vogue that lasted for the rest of his life. He recorded many hit tunes, including "Les Oignons", "Promenade aux Champs-Elysees", and the international hit "Petite Fleur". He also composed a classical ballet score in the late Romantic style of Tchaikovsky called La Nuit est sorcière ("The Night Is a Witch"). Some existentialists in France took to calling him le dieu ("the god").

Shortly before his death, Bechet dictated his autobiography, Treat It Gentle, to Al Rose, a record producer and radio host. He had worked with Rose several times in concert promotions and had a fractious relationship with him. Bechet's view of himself in his autobiography was starkly different from the one Rose knew. "The kindly old gentleman in his book was filled with charity and compassion. The one I knew was self-centered, cold, and capable of the most atrocious cruelty, especially toward women." Although embellished and frequently inaccurate, Treat It Gentle remains a staple account for the "insider's view of the New Orleans tradition."

Bechet died in Garches, near Paris, of lung cancer on May 14, 1959, his 62nd birthday, and is buried in a local cemetery.

Bechet played a jazz musician in three films, Serie Noire, L'Inspecteur connait la musique and, Quelle équipe!

His playing style was intense and passionate and had a wide vibrato. He was also known to be proficient at playing several instruments and a master of improvisation (both individual and collective). Bechet liked to have his sound dominate in a performance, and trumpeters found it difficult to play alongside him.

On June 25, 2019, The New York Times Magazine listed Sidney Bechet among hundreds of artists whose material was reportedly destroyed in the 2008 Universal fire.

Awards

DownBeat magazine Hall of Fame, 1968

Discography

Singles

"Texas Moaner Blues", with Louis Armstrong, 1924

"Cake Walkin' Babies from Home", with Red Onion Jazz Babies, 1925

"Got the Bench, Got the Park (But I Haven't Got You)", 1930

"Blues in Thirds", 1940

"Dear Old Southland", 1940

"Egyptian Fantasy", 1941

"Muskrat Ramble", 1944

"Blue Horizon", 1944

"Petite Fleur", 1959

[saskiel]

The pretty little dress

A short KakaSaku story that I wrote and released both on ff.net and ao3 (you can find me on both under the name Saskiel).

This is a modern AU story. Songs which inspired me during the story are Lost On You by LP, Ring My Bells by Enrique Iglesias and Uncover by Zara Larsson

I hope that you will enjoy the story and if you do, please lemme know what you liked about it ^^

It has been five months. Less than half a year after Sasuke has unceremonially dumped her. They have been together for seven years, being the high school sweethearts and all, before he decided that they were no longer the people they used to be. Sure, they've changed, but Sakura was not dumb enough to understand his message of "I am done with this relationship".

She allowed herself to mope around for a while after he moved out of their apartment that they've found during college. Sasuke left all of the pictures that had both of them in the frame, only taking the ones which didn't have Sakura. She didn't notice during his swift packing, but after a few days of staring at their young faces, it felt like a slap in the face.

After that, Ino felt Sakura should be already over the Uchiha and decided that she would help out. In a very Ino-way.

„Hey girlfriend! We are heading out tonight! No excuses! I will be picking you up at 8 and I am bringing a dress for you with me. Ciao!" Ino's voice sounded way too enthusiastic in the voice mail, Sakura concluded. But unless she was ready to change her address right now, she knew the blonde would not leave her alone.

Glancing at the clock, Sakura's brows knitted together. If she left work now, she would still have some time at home for a bath before the dreaded night out and possibly she could squeeze in pizza delivery if she put in the order on her way home. Turning the laptop off, Sakura got up and stretched her arms, noting the lack of other people in the office. Once again, she was the last one to leave work. A small sigh left her lips as she picked up her belongings, ready to make her way out.

xx

„You cannot be serious, Pig, I own kitchen towels which have more fabric than this," Sakura was turning the skimpy dress in her hands before making it into a ball which fit into her fist, waving it in front of the blonde to make her point.

"Stop being melodramatic and put it on," grabbing both her shoulders, Ino turned the pinkette around and pushed her in the direction of the bedroom.

Sakura decided to send her one more death glare for a good measure before closing the door and stripping down, the clothing in question laid out on her bed, silently judging her choice of underwear. It was a strapless dress which would expose her legs from mid-thigh down. It had a heavy wrinkle design which was pleasant to the touch, not to mention the deep forest green color, which indicated that Ino bought this specifically for Sakura, since the blonde had exactly zero green clothes in her wardrobe.

It wasn't that the dress was bad looking, but it was a lot more revealing than she was used to. Sasuke once mentioned that girls that revealed this much were trying too hard. Sakura always wanted to please him and so she never got any that would reach higher than just above her knees.

But no matter how much she didn't wear them, it apparently wasn't enough. Or not enough for him, in any case.

With that thought, Sakura slipped the dress over her head, surprised at how comfy it felt. Her bubblegum hair was already blow-dried and styled for the night, the longest part of her bob almost touching her collar bone. Her fingertips traced the freckles on her bare shoulders, not even sure when this part of her body was exposed to this degree.

The dress was hugging her body tightly, showing off her narrow waist. Although she didn't have the picture-perfect hourglass figure, her hips were wide enough to be pleasing to the eye. In terms of breasts, Sakura never really had much, but it never bothered her. It made it easier since she wouldn't be able to wear a bra, the top of the dress is secured only with elastic lining on the inside edge.

Sakura was looking at herself in the full-body length mirror which was next to her bed. She couldn't remember the last time her body looked so womanly. For the first time in months, she had a sense of hope.

Ino chose this moment to knock at the door shortly, before marching through them, not bothering to wait for a reply.

"Damn, you hot! I am telling you, we are getting you some action tonight, men won't be able to take their eyes off your butt," she said, plopping herself on Sakura's bed.

"So, you really don't think this is too revealing?"

"For once, just show what you've got – you can wear your virgin clothes some other day," Ino picked at her nails, already dressed in a purple summer dress. Her long hair loose and her make-up done perfectly, she was ready for a party. "Should I do your make-up?"

"Sure. Better you do it, I could possibly make it look virgin," Sakura snapped at her friend with no real heat.

Ino just clapped her hands, excited. "We will make you into an absolute 10 out of 10," she said before running off to get her make-up bag.

xx

And that is how Sakura ended up in a night club, sitting at the bar, alone, sipping on a cocktail. Her friend was nowhere to be found for the last hour. She remembered seeing her hot and heavy with some man on the dancefloor, he was definitely Ino's type. If they were still in the club, it would most likely be in a dark corner in a make-out session, but Sakura doubted they haven't left yet.

She herself thought of leaving some time ago, but the beats were a welcomed change of pace from her usual string of reality shows and pjs. Plus, there were drinks. However, no number of fruity cocktails would keep her here for another hour, she promised herself as well as her wallet.

Tapping her heel to the rhythm of the current song, Sakura glanced over the people lost to the dance. She smiled to herself, toying with the idea of joining them before going home. Just as she was about to get up, her eyes spotted a familiar face in the crowd and she stilled on the bar chair, shocked.

His hair shiny jet-black hair was reflecting the blues and reds of the flickering lights as he was making his way through the crowd. With a white button-up shirt, sleeves rolled up, and dark jeans, Sakura could not deny Sasuke's good looks.

What she also couldn't deny was the redhead firmly attached to his side, holding hands with him. And her luck, as it would seem, did not end there, she thought sourly when Sasuke started moving in her direction at the bar, making direct eye contact with her.

"Sakura, I didn't know this was your kind of scene," he said when they reached her. His staredown made the pinkette straighten up in her seat, suddenly conscious of her exposed legs.

"What can I say, I've been broadening my horizons lately," her hand brushed over the hem of her dress, pretending it needed adjusting.

"Sasuke-kun, let's dance!" the redhead glued to his arm whined, clearly upset with the other female who her boyfriend was giving attention. Said boyfriend continued to stare at his ex-girlfriend, seemingly content with the staring contest they were having.

Sakura was cursing Ino in her mind with some very colorful words when she noticed a flash of silver hair next to Sasuke. She's seen this man at the bar earlier tonight, he seemed to be there alone, just like herself. Without giving it much thought, she slid down from her chair and reached for the man's arm, stopping him in his tracks.

"Hey there, babe, what took you so long? I thought we agreed on going to dance to the next song?" she said, a pleading look in her eyes, now that her back was towards Sasuke.

He first glanced behind her before taking in her desperate expression. To Sakura's luck, he was able to put two and two together quickly and seemed willing to help her out.

"Sorry, kitten, have I been gone that long? I haven't noticed," he took her hand in his, leading her away from a very confused Sasuke.

Before they even reached the dance floor, her mystery man pushed her into a twirl before pulling her flush back to his body. Sakura wasn't the best dancer, but she took classes during high school just like the rest of the girls in her class, so she was able to follow his lead. He was making it easy for her, but not easy enough to allow her looking back to the spot where they left Sasuke and his new prize.

When she almost blindly reached out for help, she didn't expect to find this. Her dance partner was moving both of them with the grace of a professional dancer. Very soon Sakura's body relaxed into the movements, nearly forgetting the awkward exchange that happened less than two minutes ago.

The fast-paced beat was replaced by a slow melody of a song that Sakura didn't recognize, but it gave her the time needed to check that her ex was no longer at the bar. She withdrew from the silver-haired man, only to have him tug her back. His right hand rested securely on her back, pulling her closer to his body, as he lowered his head to her ear.

"He is still watching us, they are at the tables next to the bar."

They fell into an easy-going step, the man moving them across the floor in tiny circles so that Sakura could see for herself the male glaring at them, with his girlfriend sitting next to him, talking to him and stroking his arm. His staring made Sakura feel on edge, once again.

"Thank you," she said back, taking her eyes off Sasuke. "I am Sakura, by the way."

"Nice to meet you, kitten," he smiled down at her, the lack of his name not lost on Sakura. She decided to let it go, for now, he has been helping her, after all. She wasn't gonna grill him about manners when she practically threw herself on him.

"So, I take it there was trouble in paradise?"

"Apparently," she said with a sad smile. "I wasn't aware of it until the paradise was over."

"I'd say it's his loss, then," there was a wolfish grin on the mystery's man face, which made Sakura chuckle.

"Is this how you pick up girls in bars, huh?"

"Only those," he made her make another twirl for him, before bringing her back, "who ask for a savior," his grin was infectious, the warmth of his palm seeping through her dress just above her backside.

Her cheeks felt warm and she knew for sure that she was blushing, the thumb of his hand rubbing circles on her back. His scent filled her nose as she got even closer to him. He smelled of misty mornings in the pine forest. They danced for the rest of the song, his chin rested on the crown of her head, both lost in their own thoughts.

"How about I get you a drink, Sakura," it wasn't a command, but he wasn't asking her either. She smiled at him and nod, once again following his lead as they ventured to the bar. Her mystery man ordered a whisky for himself and one of those fruity cocktails she was having earlier.

"How did you know I was drinking these?" Sakura asked while the bartender was preparing their drinks.

"I might have seen you before, it's hard to miss you in that pretty little dress," the wink he gave her left Sakura speechless before she laughs out loud. When their drinks arrived, there was still a smile on her face. She raised her glass to make a toast.

"To pretty little dress."

"To pretty little dress," he echoed her words as their glasses clinked together.

xx

"So, let me recap this," Sakura said, pointing her glass at the man sitting next to her. "You used to be a Latin dancer but then your partner got knocked up and you completely stopped with the competitions? And now you are... A teacher? How does one go from an athlete to a teacher - of geography of all subject?!"

The silver-haired man chuckled. "After Kurenai, my dance partner got pregnant, I realized that I was competing more for her than for myself. As for how does one become a teacher, well, a good friend of mine is the principal of a high-school and they needed someone to teach classes for a short period of time and it kind of just… Stuck, I suppose," he shrugged.

Sakura shook her head, a smile on her lips. After she graduated from college, she got hired in a company where she already worked part-time during her studies. She never had any interesting jobs before that. Maybe it was the sweet liquor on her tongue, but it's been ages since she met someone as interesting as the men who only called her "kitten". She wanted to know more.

"Why do you go to the bars, then?"

"For dancing, of course," his reply confused her.

"But, you just said that -"

"I said that I no longer wanted to compete, not that I stopped liking dance," he interrupted her with a knowing smile.

"Ah, I guess that makes sense," she said, feeling a little silly that this wouldn't occur to her.

They spent a few moments in comfortable silence, each sipping on their drink. Sakura would sometimes cast glances at the man and look away as soon as he would give her a questioning look. After this happened for the third time, Sakura stood up and excused herself. Her steps were just slightly unsteady as she walked past the dancing crowd, in search of the toilets. They were easy to spot with a bunch of girls in front of them, so Sakura took her place at the end of the line.

xx

The wait felt like an eternity, but Sakura would soon be the next one to go, just two more girls in front of her at the moment.

Sakura's foot tapped in the rhythm of the song, mindlessly, as she hypnotized the door with her gaze. Why do bars only have one toilet for women, anyway? It made no sense.

Finally, the door opened and a red-head came out. Sakura didn't immediately recognize her, merely happy that she was almost the one to go there. Unfortunately for her, the girl did notice her.

"Who are you and why does Sasuke-kun keep looking at you?!" she barked out, folding her arms over her chest as she stared at Sakura, who was caught of guard completely.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Are you dense? I asked you who you are and why is Sasuke-kun so interested in you?"

Sakura finally pieced it together. She looked at the girl in front of her more closely. Her hair was loosely falling around her face, touching her shoulders. Her eyes, hidden behind red-trimmed glasses, were angry and there was a pout on her lips. She was wearing a black tight-fitting dress with sequences all over it, reflecting the multi-colored lights flashing from the dance floor.

"I doubt that Sasuke is interested in me, seeing as we broke up," Sakura said, folding her own arms. She did not appreciate the deadly glare from the trophy-girlfriend of her ex.

The red-head squinted her eyes before she snorted. "You were with Sasuke-kun? That's rich as if he would ever notice someone like you."

Sakura watched as her body language changed. Before, the red-head was angry, holding herself close. But now, her hands were on her hips as she laughed, spewing mean comments.

"He would never be with someone who is so small, also the color of your hair, is that supposed to be a joke? And don't even get me started on -"

"Well, I am sure that you are a much better fit for him than I was for the last-seven-years," she interrupted the string of criticism that was being thrown at her. "So, how about you run back to your boyfriend now and leave me alone, yes?"

The red-head was left speechless as Sakura took off, finally her turn to use the toilet. She didn't see the girl huff and puff away, but she felt proud of herself at that moment.

xx

When Sakura returned, she found her silver-haired man at the bar, basically the same spot she left him. He turned around, seemingly in search of her. It made her smile and she waved at him as she got in his hearing distance.

"Wanna do some more dancing?" she asked, standing next to him.

"How could I ever turn down such a request, kitten" he replied, his eyes smiling.

Hopping off his bar stool, he took her hand in his and together they made their way back to the dance floor. Soon after that, they were lost in the movement, enjoying each others company. Sakura still couldn't believe that she asked most likely the only man in here who was an actual dancer to be her ticket out of the awkward situation with her ex.

They barely danced for ten minutes when the upbeat tune got replaced by a slow song. And another after that.

It has been the third song that Sakura was securely held by the man, swaying in the slow rhythm. His hand was keeping her close to his body, only occasionally spinning her under his arm. He clearly enjoyed the way it made her laugh.

It took her a bit of time to recognize the song that was currently playing in the background of her happy moment.

Burning like embers, falling, tender… Long before the days of no surrender… Years ago and well you know…

Sakura's gaze made it's way to the spot where Sasuke was sitting nearly the whole evening. He was talking to his new girlfriend. She couldn't help but recall what the red-head had told her not even half an hour ago.

All I ever wanted was you… I'll never go to heaven 'Cause I don't know how…

"What's your name?" she asked, looking up in the dark eyes of her dance partner. She wasn't pleading.

Let's raise a glass or two… To all the things I've lost on you…

"Kakashi."

Tell me are they lost on you… Oh oh… Just that you could cut me loose…

"Let's get out of here, Kakashi," taking his hand in hers, Sakura made her way to the front door, not looking back.

After everything I've lost on you… Is that lost on you? Baby, is that lost on you?

xx

She didn't have a plan, far from it. She acted on an impulse and now her head refused to work properly, making everything seem a bit hazy. Once they got out of the bar, Kakashi hailed down a taxi for them. When they were seated in the back of the car, he gave the driver an address.

Sakura was looking out of the window as the car started moving. Their inter-twined hands were between them. Kakashi slightly squeezed her to bring attention to him. When she looked at him, he asked her if everything was alright.

"Yes, actually," she said, smiling at him.

She was in a taxi with a man she just met tonight. If Sasuke did not show up, she would likely never asked him to dance. But he did and she was now driving to, presumably, his home. It was the most impulsive decision she has done in months, if not years. She realized that she was absolutely okay with it as she watched the worry leave his face after the reply she gave him.

She released his hand just to be able to get closer to him. "Everything is more than alright," her fingers played with a button on his shirt. She cast him a glance between her eyelashes, mere inches from his face.

Kakashi did not leave her waiting for long. Putting his hand into her pink locks, he closed the distance between their lips. She could taste the faint traces of whisky he drank that evening as they kissed, unhurriedly.

She felt his athletic body under the shirt, enjoying the way he held her close. Even with the slow pace, there was a hunger to his kisses, something that was thrilling to Sakura. Shifting her body, she was now sitting on his lap, her small frame fitting nicely as he circled his arms around her to keep her firmly in place.

It was also her who deepened the kiss. She felt his fingers dig into her back as he let out an appreciative grunt, adjusting to their new position. They only left each other's lips to draw some air, in those moments they would look into each other's eyes, the palm-able attraction making both of them excited.

xx

She was still on Kakashi's lap when the taxi came to stop. She made her way off of him, her cheeks rosy with embarrassment as he paid the driver. They left the car and he lead her to the front door of one of the buildings that were on the street. She took a quick look around while Kakashi fished for his keys.

It looked like a nice neighborhood, this street was well lit and she could see a few shops, which were closed now, but their fronts were casting light on the street. Kakashi lived in a three-story building which was part of the block. It seemed old but cared for.

He unlocked the door and motioned for her to go in first, closing behind them.

"All the way up," he said.

They were silent as they walked up. Sakura couldn't shake the feeling that he was staring at her butt and before she could stop herself, she added an extra sway to her hips. When she reached the top of the second floor, she turned around and sure enough, his eyes were firmly glued to her backside. It made something primal stir within her.

When they reached the top floor, the pinkette moved out of the way and Kakashi moved to the door at the right side of the small, square hallway. He entered the apartment, turning on the light and walking towards the small table which had a small bowl, presumably for keys, since he put his there.

Sakura followed him into the room, taking a quick look around. They were in a small living room, judging by the TV and a comfy-looking sofa. All the furniture was in off-white color with light gray elements. There was a splash of turquoise in the form of a few throw pillows and an abstract painting on the opposite wall. There was no window here, but from where she stood she could see the entrance to the kitchen on her left side, where the whole wall was almost entirely out of glass. To her right were two more rooms, she assumed one of them would be the bedroom.

Sakura looked back at Kakashi, who was still standing by the coffee table, his back to her. She switched the lights back off, making him turn his head. She closed the door behind her without dropping eye contact with him, leaning against his front door. The only light was coming from the street through the kitchen window, making Sakura visible to Kakashi. Biting her bottom lip, Sakura reached for the zipper at her back, the sound of her dress being undone carrying through the quiet apartment. Letting it fall off her body, she pushed it aside with her heel. She watched him take in her nearly-naked form as she trailed her fingers over the black lace of her panties. He was mostly cast in shadows for her, but she could swear she saw him gulp when her own hand brushed over her nipple, finally releasing her bottom lift. Raising her other hand, she beckoned him to her.

He hesitated for a split second, but then he made his way to her waiting body and like a predator capturing his prey, he started kissing her. The way he was keeping her bare back against the wood, his hands roaming from her hips to her breasts, made Sakura moan. She could feel his cock pressing into the flesh of her belly. Sneaking her hand between their bodies she stroked him through the fabric of his pants, earning herself a low growl as he buried his face in the crook of her neck, planting open mouth kisses on her skin.

xx

It didn't take Sakura long before she wanted more, making a quick work of Kakashi's belt and tugging at his pants which he promptly removed, once they were at his ankles, together with his shoes and socks. Pushing lightly at his chest, she guided them to his spacious sofa. Forcing him to sit down, Sakura stayed standing in front of him, as she started moving to a non-existing melody. Her heels would make a tapping noise whenever she would turn around as her hands scraped over the exposed skin.

Kakashi's eyes were following the motions of her fingers, wherever they would move. From her hair, which she held in her fists, like he did earlier that night, before letting it fall back, the sparse light in the room making it almost silvery. Then down her neck, which he got acquainted not too long ago, leaving white pressure trails as her nails dug into the skin, over her breasts and belly, all the while her hips were rocking to the rhythm in her head.

When she reached her underwear, the hunger in his gaze nearly drove her insane, but she also didn't want to release this hold she had on him quite yet. Hooking the thin lace under her thumbs, she started sliding it down her legs, taking her time. She kept her back straight, moving her whole upper body until the last piece of clothing was touching the floor. Stepping over it, Sakura savored the look he was giving her, like an animal who hasn't eaten for days, starving.

Starving for her.

Sakura could no longer keep him waiting, as well as herself. She lowered herself on his lap, kicking her stilettos off as she sat on him. He did not waste a single moment and drew her closer onto his hard member, making both of them moan in pleasure. After his initial move, Sakura started moving her hips, pressing her naked sex against his, still trapped in boxers. When he tried to shift them into another position, she held him down and rubbed at him harder, moaning in his ear.

"Sakura," he choked out.

"Mhmm?" she murmured as she nipped at his neck.

"You are driving me crazy," he said, cupping her butt in his palms, squeezing it.

Arching her back as his cock rubbed at her clitoris, sending waves of pleasure through her body, she moaned loudly, before looking back at him, her expression full of lust. "What are you going to do about it, then?"

Kakashi wasn't going to wait for any more invitations and with the strength of his athletic body, he lifted her up. Sakura had only a second to throw her arms around his neck to catch onto him, but his hands never left her ass, holding her securely in place as he carried her to his bedroom, pushing the half-closed door with his knee.

xx

He sprawled her on his sheets and for a split second, he admired her pale skin, illuminated only by the moonlight streaming from the window above the bed. Sakura watched him take off his shirt and boxers, drinking in his naked body. Every inch of him was calling to her. Getting on her knees, she caressed his cock before lowering her mouth onto him, sucking gently, testing the waters.

"Fuck, kitten," Kakashi grabbed a fistful of her pink locks, but he didn't pressure her, giving her room to do whatever she wanted.

She enjoyed the way he would tense up whenever she would suck at the tip. Moaning around his cock in her mouth, she touched her already wet pussy. Her moans were increasingly louder as he started gently pushing his hips against her lips, not enough to choke her with his length, but enough to fuel her to suck faster and harder.

"Sakura," his voice came out husky, making a shiver run down her spine. "Lemme grab a condom."

Letting him slip out of her mouth, she shook her head slightly. "It's fine, I'm on pills," she said before bringing him back, her tongue already missing twirling over his tip. This time, she brought her other hand to his balls, gently stroking them.

Kakashi hissed, not able to handle the amount of pleasure she was giving him any longer. He had to have her.

Prying her off his cock, he ordered her to turn around as he crawled on to the bed behind her, only too pleased with her listening to him.

Sakura spread her knees for him, her hands holding the headboard of the bed, observing his approach.

Steadying himself he first touched her, rubbing her wetness over her clit. Closed her eyes, she moaned his name, pushing herself closer to his body, the foreplay slowly killing her. "Please," she begged him, her nails digging into the wooden frame.

Kakashi, even if he wanted to tease her a bit more, swore after hearing her voice. Placing his cock right at her entrance, he brushed against her a few times, spreading her with just the tip.

Sakura was having none of that and with one swift motion, she pushed against him, embracing his full length. Both of them gasped for air as he filled her completely. She was still adjusting to his cock inside her when he started moving, first slow and steady. Soon after, he grabbed her hips to make his thrusts more powerful. Sakura reached between her legs to massage the sensitive bundle of nerves, her soft moans filling the room, signaling her approaching orgasm.

Kakashi, encouraged by her sweet moans, hammered her even faster until he felt her convulsing around his cock, his name falling off her lips like a prayer. It was the way her smaller body was soft and warm, his for the taking, that tipped him over the edge as well. He left out a feral groan as his hips bucked against her butt, his cock twitching deep within her.

They relished the way their bodies were connected for a bit longer before he slipped out of her, giving a fleeting kiss to the middle of her spine.

Sakura released a content sigh, letting her body collapse on the bed. Her peace did not last long, though, before she groaned, remembering something.

"Can I use your shower?"

Kakashi chuckled at her exhausted voice.

"Of course, kitten, c'mere," he said, helping her up and keeping her upright when her knees decided to not work properly after their passionate endeavor.

He walked them to his bathroom, the bright light making Sakura groan some more, waking her up from her half-sleep.

Convinced that Sakura must have been sleep-walking, Kakashi took the liberty of holding her under the stream of water as he washed both of them. Then, returning with her to the bedroom where he covered her naked body under the blanket, holding her close to his side. Her damp hair smelled of strawberries, he thought as he drifted off to sleep as well.

xx

When Sakura woke up, it was already light out. The smell of morning pine forest was enveloping her body, the warm blanket wrapped around her as she lied on her stomach, one arm curled under her torso. She opened her eyes, just slightly dreading the infamous "morning after", only to find out that Kakashi was not in the bed anymore.

She pulled herself up, holding the blanket in front of herself. Last night, she didn't pay much attention to the bedroom, other things on her mind and all that, but now she took a look around.

The most prominent piece of furniture was definitely the bed, made out of dark wood and covered with ocean blue covers. Each side had a small side table, one of them had a clock on it, clearly Kakashi's usual sleeping side. The floor was the same dark gray stained wooden planks as she's seen in the rest of the apartment. There were two wardrobes, the smaller of the two had picture frames on top of it. Some were from his dancing days, but others gave the impression of being much newer, possibly with students. The window on her left side had cream-colored blinds, matching the square carpet that was around the bed.

Other than the two-door, she faintly recalled one of them leading to the bathroom, that was it. The door to the living room wasn't completely closed and Sakura just now noticed the faint music coming from there. As well as a delicious smell, which made her belly rumble, demanding some of whatever food that was.

Throwing her legs over the edge of the bed, Sakura fastened the blanket closer to her body, still naked. As far as she could tell, her own clothes were nowhere in sight. Which wasn't that odd, given she didn't undress in here. The memory of her bold choices brought the heat to her face. Thinking back, she wasn't sure what exactly drove her to act as she did. Was alcohol at fault? Was it Sasuke?

She slipped into the bathroom as she thought more about it. She looked back at the years with Sasuke as she tried to wash the make-up off her face. They used to be happy, or at least she remembered being happy. But over the years, things turned sour for the two of them. He just no longer cared and the harder she tried, the more distant he became. She felt unhappy after he left, but maybe he did both of them justice.

But with Kakashi, it was something new. He did not ask why she needed the help, he just went along with it. He didn't need to ask her if she was okay in the backseat of the taxi. Yet he did. For the first time in years, she felt worthy of affection. She was ready to put the past behind her and just explore what it meant to be a woman.

Granted, if she would act less on an impulse, it would probably not be a meaningless one-night stand, but here she was. In his bathroom, making herself a bit more presentable, still feeling the fathom kisses on her skin.

Sakura left the bathroom with her face clean, the blanket trailing behind her, feeling better than she did in months.

xx

Her mood got even better as she stood at the open entrance to the kitchen. Kakashi didn't notice her yet, or at least he did not turn around from the stove. Next to him on the counter was his phone, playing soft tunes that she didn't recognize. She could see the muscles on his bareback as he lightly swayed his hips. His butt looked even better in the morning light, she concluded.

The window was revealing a small inner court, most of what she could see was just grass, but funny enough, she also spotted a swing. Between her and Kakashi was a table which already had a whole array of breakfast food on it. There were fresh fruit, orange juice, a pot of black coffee with cream on the side of it, slices of dark bread, an assortment of jams and some empty plates.

Kakashi was just flipping the last of what appeared to be crêpes, when the music stopped. As far as Sakura knew, she made no sound since she entered the kitchen, but he turned around. Perhaps sensing her presence, she didn't know.

"Ah," he scratched the back of his head, a shy smile on his lips, "good morning. I didn't wake you up, I hope?"

Sakura shook her head, smiling back.

"Okay, that's good. I thought I could make some breakfast for us," he said, taking his phone off the counter and putting the plate full of crêpes in the middle of the table. Instead of sitting down, he looked at her, almost nervously holding the top of the chair.

She decided to take pity on him. "Nice sweatpants," she said, pointing at the clothing in question, as she sat down at the table.

Kakashi looked down at his light gray sweats with dark shuriken print all over. For a moment he seemed baffled but Sakura could see the second he realized she was just making a joke to diffuse the situation.

"What can I say, they are very comfy," he joined her at the table with a chuckle.

"I bet. So, have you been up long?" she asked as she grabbed a glass of orange juice, taking a sip and readjusting the slipping blanket still wrapped around her body.

"Not really, about an hour? Still on school hours even during the weekend, I'm afraid," his hand stopped in the mid-air, reaching for some bread. "I'm sorry, would you maybe like a shirt or something? I… don't usually do this, so I am not sure what the protocol is."

Sakura looked down at the blanket. It wasn't uncomfy, but she did have to fasten it every once in a while. She felt the heat creep up her face, imagining how silly she must have looked like. "I also wouldn't know, actually. But I guess a shirt would be nice," she said, suddenly very self-aware of her appearance.

Kakashi stood up and held out his hand for her to take. She took it and together they walked back to the bedroom. He opened the bigger wardrobe as well as a drawer on the smaller one. "Just take your pick. I will wait for you with breakfast."

He was almost out of the door again when Sakura's hand stopped him. She was facing the floor when he turned back to her.

"I just want you to know that… That I've enjoyed myself last night."

She didn't see his smile, but she felt his palm, warm on her cheek as he made her look at him.

"That makes both of us," he said before he placed a soft kiss on her lips. "I'll see you in the kitchen."

This time, she didn't stop him, maybe due to the butterflies in her stomach.

xx

She made it back just a few minutes later, dressed in one of his button-up shirts which reached her mid-thigh, picking her underwear from the living room on the way. Kakashi was sipping his coffee, looking out of the window, but turned his head when she entered. She watched the way his gaze followed the length of her bare legs, the bottom hem of his own shirt, too big on her smaller frame, all the way up to her face. The appreciation in his eyes was clear.

"You look cozy," his deep voice did little to calm down her quickening heartbeat.

"Thank you, I am feeling quite cozy," she took her previous place at the table.

Kakashi started piling various foods onto his plate and Sakura followed his suit. Spreading a thin layer of strawberry jam over the crêpe, she rolled it up and cut off a piece. It was delicious.

"Mhmmm, these are really good!"

"I'm glad you like them," he chuckled.

For the next few minutes, they simply enjoyed each other's company while they ate. When they were both done, only sipping on their drinks, Kakashi disturbed the comfortable silence.

"So… What now?" he asked, not unkindly.

Sakura thought about his question for a moment before answering. What now, indeed. Last night was the result of a culmination of her sorrows, sending her into the arms of this man, who was nothing short of a gentleman so far, even making her this breakfast. She was inexperienced in the whole one-night stand situation, but she had a pretty good inkling that this was not how it usually went.

Looking at him now, as he was waiting for her response, she saw no reason to go home just yet.

Standing up, she moved to straddle him, just like she did last night. Steadying herself by lightly gripping his shoulders, she felt his hands slip under the shirt she was wearing, his warm palms making sure she wouldn't hit the table. "I don't know," she whispered, looking into his dark eyes. Hesitantly, she lowered her head towards his and Kakashi met her halfway. His lips were soft against hers as her fingers trailed the skin on the nape of his neck.

When they broke off their kiss, he kept her close, rubbing his nose over her collar bone.

"Would you like to join me for a movie tonight?" he asked between the gentle pecks.

"I think I would like that," she felt him smile against her skin.

She could stay here for a while…

[jamiefairfaxisntcool]

/mu/core album review | Neutral Milk Hotel - In the Aeroplane Over the Sea

/mu/core album review #1

this week on /mu/core album review, we look at:

Neutral Milk Hotel - In the Aeroplane Over the Sea

Ah yes, In the Aeroplane Over the Sea. The album that’s mostly known as either, “that one weird album from the 90s,” or, “/mu/ basic bitch meme music.” If you’re anywhere past a casual music fan, you have most-likely heard some songs off this project, if not the whole thing, doubly so if you’re into 90s culture, Indie, or any sort of Art-Rock or Folk movements. As I type this, the most popular YouTube rip of the album has about 4.3 million views, a playlist separating each track stands at 500,000 views, and the title track has a remarkable 40,733,956 plays on Spotify. Holy shit, to put that into perspective: AV Club writes that, “In The Aeroplane Over The Sea was originally slated to sell about 7,000 copies,” that’s roughly 5,819 times the predicted sales numbers of the album on just that song. This also means that this song has been listened to for approximately 131,163,338 minutes, a total of around 131,163,299 more minutes than the actual album length. Humanity has spent a collective 249 years listening to In the Aeroplane Over the Sea. Oh, and that’s just the title track.

If I couldn’t spell it out so clearly there, this album is fucking outrageously popular.

Even if you haven’t heard any material off the LP, this album is memed pretty heavily in the music corners of the internet. I don’t think I can find a single music meme page or forum that hasn’t jumped upon the ITAOTS or NMH bandwagon.

At this current point in time, ITAOTS has became a permanent resident in the zeitgeist of internet music culture. NMH, and by extension, it’s creator, Jeff Mangum have been elevated to a cult of personality status. The band and this project are accompanied by a never-ending choir: 15-25 year old sad white boys who cry while sing-screeching about semen and Anne Frank and poorly play open chords on their detuned Ibanez acoustics.

It’s oddly beautiful.

The album is so deceptively simple, so creatively cryptic and has all the elements of a slog faux-folk fest filled with whining that would bore me to so many tears that they could rival the sad boy indie kids who lose their e-girls to their more socially active explore-page bait counterparts. To a person not familiar with it, ITAOTS could look like an over hyped, masturbatory depression tape. It looks boring. It looks like it should be boring.

If it should be boring, then why have I only listened to it and absolutely nothing else for the last two days?

This isn’t a joke, I revisited the album of course to refresh myself before sitting down and writing this review. I kept listening, over the course of a school day, in-between production and songwriting sets, while playing games, and as I write this, I just finished my eighth spin of the record. Before those last two days, I had only listened to the album probably twice. 

I remember listening to it back in seventh grade and not particularly disliking it. I was really into Yes and a lot of other Prog and Psych bands, but I wasn’t particularly impressed with the almost yuppie voice that Jeff had used on the record compared to vocal beasts like Freddie Mercury, Bowie, and Jon Anderson. Later on, I listened in freshman year, and I appreciated it much more, and had a few songs come up in my shuffle play, but thought nothing much of it.

Now, war had changed.

part 1: i’m the fucking carrot king

As I plopped down in my computer chair, my window crackled and banged like a distant firecracker with the smack of heavy rains on a Summer afternoon. I placed my headphones firmly atop my ears, closed my eyes and leaned back in my chair. I heard the opening chords of The King of Carrot Flowers Pt. 1 and tried not just to hear the instrumentation, but also pay attention to the lyrical content of Mr. Mangum.

When you were young, you were the king of carrot flowers And how you built a tower tumbling through the trees In holy rattlesnakes that fell all around your feet

Okay, so what the fuck is actually happening here?

Upon my listens, I inferred that Jeff is speaking to another party here, most likely a female love interest, in what seemingly starts in a nostalgic tone. This sounds almost like a picturesque, coming-of-age, Americana film. Maybe one starring Molly Ringwald and River Phoenix, with a surprise cameo from someone famous back then like Jack Nicholson. Maybe John Candy, with a John Hughes script. Everything would have those faded out, classic colors, a hearkened back era. Quickly, by halfway through the first act, the tone shifts. A darker mood, a stark, grim reminder that life wasn’t always sunny and shinning in Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood.

And your mom would stick a fork right into daddy's shoulder And dad would throw the garbage all across the floor As we would lay and learn what each other's bodies were for

The Mang informs us of a horrific family life, specifically about what seems to be his dad’s, stepmom’s, and stepsister’s interpersonal relationships. The lines are obvious and straightforward, the life of our protagonist was rife with unhealthy familial and sexual relationships, and a sense of love and sweetness was not found there. Keep that in mind when thinking about later songs such as Oh Comely.

After the somber intro of Carrot Flowers Pt. 1, we reach my personal least favorite track on the album: The King of Carrot Flowers Pt. 2 and 3.

Look, I know the meme. “I LOOOOOOOOOVE JESUUUS CHUHRIEEEIISSSSTT,” and all that shit. I’m not even worked up about that line in particular, I just dislike Pt. 3. It’s the weakest of the upbeat songs on the album, with the weird yodel-screech voice that Gumman performs with really takes me out of the experience, which sucks because the buildup and atmosphere of Pt. 2 felt pretty amazing. Luckily, Pt. 3 is fairly short, so we don’t have to worry about it too much.

part 2: earth angel’s thesis

The title track for this album is one of the best songs on this album, no fucking contest. In the Aeroplane Over the Sea, Oh Comely, The Fool, and Two-Headed Boy Pt. 2 are top contenders when discussing this album. If you like the faster, fuzzier, upbeat songs you could probably substitute The Fool for Holland, 1945.

The title track has a familiar sounding chord progression and we can hear Gum from Jet Set Radio’s saccharine but yelp-y voice belt out from atop the mountains his undying love and admiration for... Anne Frank?

What a beautiful face I have found in this place That is circling all round the sun What a beautiful dream That could flash on the screen In a blink of an eye and be gone from me

In the first verse, Geoff mentions meeting or viewing a beautiful person on this fleeting rock circling round the Sun. He also matches this with the idea that it’s truly futile for him to chase after this beauty, as it is only a dream that could escape him when he awakes. El Jefé has actually mentioned that some of his surrealist lyrics are derived from dreams. Perhaps these lines could imply a more literal dream fading? I don’t exactly know, all I know is what I interpreted.

The instrumentation of this piece is nothing straying from NMH’s usual repertoire: Mandrake on Guitar and Vocals, Scott Spillane on the Horns, Robert Schneider on Bass and Production, Julian Koster playing... something. What is he playing? Wait, give me a second.

He’s playing the Singing Saw? I thought it was like, a Theremin. What the fuck is a Singing Saw?

Oh.

Okay sure, you can play that, however the fuck you do that.

And finally we have Jeremy Barnes on Drums.

The personnel handle the music with a light, bouncy feeling, and the tone and timbre remind me of a faded, old, seaside town on the east coast. Another thing to mention is that the chord progression is G-Em-C-D; I-vi-IV-V. A funny thing I noticed is that this song shares a chord progression with tons of songs from the 50’s and early 60’s, which adds to the waning Americana feeling, but it more specifically shares that progression with Earth Angel by The Penguins. In the 80’s film, Back To The Future, Marvin Berry covers the song with his band for the Enchantment Under The Sea Dance where Marty’s dad and mom have to dance to ensure that the future stays intact. There’s no further real connection, but I thought that was kinda cool to mention.

After looking through the lyrics for In the Aeroplane Over the Sea, I will admit, as a brainlet Two-Headed Boy Pt. 1 eluded me. Patrolling through Genius and some other reviews, I guess the consensus about this track was that it was about Anne Frank again? Manta Jeff’s cryptic lyricism continues to fool me. Besides the lyrics, this track mostly remains a piece of really good filler.

part 3: stop the military occupation of my brainwaves

The Fool is amazing, anyone who says it’s filler is wrong. I know I might anger some people by literally implying that Two-Headed Boy Pt. 1 was filler, but seriously The Fool just makes me a feel a way. My brain creates a scene reminiscent of a depressing diesel-punk Les Misérables. Even though Scotch Spillage’s fantastic piece for horns is beautifully imperfect, it lacks lyrical content and is short and length. So, let’s instead talk about Holland, 1945.

This awesome, uptempo, almost punk-like piece of fuzzy brass is groovy son. It’s probably the song you could show someone not familiar with this project and they’d be like, “Oh, is this Cake? Why is the lead singer singing so high now?”

Holland, 1945 is a song that you can just listen for the instrumentation. Holland, 1945 is a song that promotes peace and love. There’s so many great things I can say about Holland, 1945. How it’s theme is so perfectly fitting for today’s political climate, how it manages to blend these psychedelic and bluesy timbres with a fast and loud sound and how well it continued the semi-conceptual narrative of Joff’s admiration and love for... Anne Frank.

Okay, fuck it, I have to say it. It’s bothered me ever since I discovered it.

Why Anne Frank? Like, I know why Anne Frank, but I mean like, why, y’know? I’ll say I admire Anne Frank, she was trying her best to live a normal life in a terrifying time to be alive, but I never wanted to fuck her. xxJeffxx’s mentions of Anne kind of make me raise an eyebrow. Especially because the album’s not just about her either. When he gets sexual, it’s difficult to determine whether he is mentioning a third party or Anne, which would be pretty weird, as she was 15 when she died and Heff was 28 when he wrote this. Maybe this is just some patrician music shit that I’m too plebeian to understand, like heated toilet seats or drinking for fun rather than to drown the pain. Maybe I haven’t sat down and watched enough flowery-squarespace-sponsored-lofi-hip-hop-muzak-using-pretentious video essayists to understand it, but what do I know.

part 4: the proletariat cries

To wrap on the second half of the album, this is the half that I cried in.

Communist Daughter is a good song, but with how short it is, it left me wanting more. This track is one of the few that actually features a soft-spoken Jeffen, and its open and dark but dreamy atmosphere left my jaw agape. The mountaintops weren’t the only thing stained.

Oh Comely, Oh Comely. Oh Comely is a song that deserves its own review. The lyrical chops of The Mangum Magnum are on full display as he belts somber, brutal verse after verse, with plenty of juxtaposition between sickening, sexual and vile situations alongside a description of a sweet, innocent young girl, just trying to survive with a guitar by her side. This beautiful, lovely girl gets taken advantage by someone, some people, perhaps even Yeff himself, only seen as an easy lay, a whore, like the ones her father visits often. He disgustingly describes semen in the garden, and her making miracles with her mouth, but I didn’t get a tone similar to so many songs about “sexual-empowerment.” The song is about self-deprecating depression leading to her being used, perhaps even abused. A situation all too real, too close to many of us. As I type this, I don’t know what to think. A woman should of course have individual sexual freedom, but this song doesn’t describe that. It describes trauma, emotional, psychological trauma. Meaningless sex, a rotten smell, staining the flower of a woman, all of this language that could be simply described as gross. This isn’t a happy song about fucking bitches. This song is about how a girl wanted to play music, pluck vines and was taken advantage of, reduced to her roots, and deflowered. Fuck. I wish I could save her. In some sort of time machine.

Two-Headed Boy could refer to a number of things. I have a head canon. This girl, Comely, is being used by the Two-Headed Boy for sexual favors. The Two-Headed Boy then “repays” her in friendship and music, playing their silly little songs. On the surface, Comely assumes the Two-Headed Boy trusts her and cares for her, but really all he wants is sex. Comely, living in a broken home and without a proper male figure in their life, is conned by the Two-Headed Boy, and just wants to live a normal life. Comely is trapped. She’s living in a place that is surrounded by the texture of scum and she knows it, she just can’t call upon the strength to leave. She’s trapped in a home, a ghetto, wanting to live a normal life, but she’s been placed here by the Two-Headed Boy, who knew her mother and father were broken, and she would be too. The Two-Headed Boy broke in, claimed to be her friend, and supports her, before defiling her. Comely was pretty, bright, and intelligent. She was just in a bad situation.

Comely was Anne Frank.

Not to say that they were literally one in the same, but I mean J. Mangum (private eye) is comparing two children, ripped from their lives by this awful world, and intertwining them, blurring the lines.

Who’s the Two-Headed Boy? As I said, it could be a number of people. Nazis, Peter van Pels, hell, even Jeff Manga himself could be the Two-Headed Boy. It doesn’t matter as long as we realize the relationship between oppressed and oppressor.

There is a glimmer of hope for Comely though. Read the closing words from Two-Headed Boy Pt. 2:

Two headed boy, she is all you could need She will feed you tomatoes and radio wires And retire to sheets safe and clean But don't hate her when she gets up to leave

Comely and the Two-Headed Boy split away from each other. Comely leaves the Two-Headed Boy, and the narrator says not to hate her when she leaves. On a deeper level, this could be an introspective Jeff Mangum relating on his past. I don’t really know.

outro

Neutral Milk Hotel - In the Aeroplane Over the Sea

9/10

What did you think? Was I way off the mark, or do you agree? What should I have covered? What did you like, what did you dislike, I’m all ears. Leave a follow and a like if you liked it and I’ll see you on Wednesday.

[myrecordcollections]

AK Musick

AK Musick

@ 1972 Germany Pressing

*****

AK Musick formed back in the early 70’s. They were interested in producing music in a very democratic way. Their legendary LP is now a very rare item of what I would call “German experimental era”. More about it in the following interview with Hans Kumpf, clarinetist. Special thanks goes to René Debot for helping me to get in contact with Hans.

There is not much known about your group AK Musick. Tell us about the formation of the band? Where did you find other members? We all five members were studying at the Teacher’s College (“Pädagogische Hochschule”) in Ludwigsburg close to Stuttgart in Southern Germany. Three of us (Alfred Lell, Winfried Koch, Hans Kumpf) had the same clarinet teacher. The singer Angela Weber I have known already from my hometown of Schwäbisch Hall, where we joined the same pupils’ choir. The Keyboarder Helmut Grab also studied with the famous composer of contemporary music Helmut Lachenmann, a Luigi Nono alumnus. Were you and other band members of AK Musick involved with any other projects before 1972? Helmut Grab was busy in improvised rock music; the others were more active in classical music. I was the only one who was really involved in jazz before. Let’s share a few words about your childhood and teen years. You grew up in Stuttgart. What did you study and what influenced you the most? I was born in Stuttgart in 1951, but the next six years I grew up in Markgröningen in the Stuttgart area. My parents moved then to Schwäbisch Hall, quite in the middle between Stuttgart and Nuremberg, in 1957. There I was impressed by foreign students of the University in Heidelberg who performed in my hometown: I could listen to the original music of Africa, Asia and America. When I was a teenager I was already interested in the music from the whole wide world. In an alternative youth club (“Alpha 60”) I attended interesting jazz concerts (like pianist Wolfgang Dauner and trombonist Albert Mangelsdorff) and later I organized “music weeks” (including classical + contemporary music, jazz an             advanced pop/folk music). In my school, which was specialized in music, I as a pupil/student had the responsibility for culture. In May 1969 I organized a bus trip to Stuttgart, where Jimi Hendrix performed – even some months before the Woodstock festival. When I was eight years old, I began with a recorder (simple flute), later I learned in lessons trumpet, piano and clarinet. Now clarinet is my main instrument. AK Musick is a really avant-garde project consistent of free jazz influences. What can you tell me about the concept behind it and what does the name actually mean? We all were eager in new things, we wanted to make music in a very democratic way. Everybody had a classical education – this was the base. Of course we were also influenced by the avant-garde  composer Helmut Lachenmann (who also was in the studio during our LP recording). He writes very intellectual compositions, and the parameters are very important (this we learned with the Stockhausen alumnus Johannes Fritsch in Darmstadt, too!). AK Musick? “AK” is a German abbreviation for “Arbeitskreis” (“workshop”), which was used at the universities quite often at that time. “Musick” is a mixture of the English “music” and the German word “Musik”. Even in medieval times they wrote “musick” in England. And in “Musick”, there is included the English word “sick”. We had humor.

Is the musical content a live-recording from the 13. German Jazz Festival Frankfurt, that held on 14.11.1972? Would you like to tell us a bit more about the pieces on the LP?

No, no – be careful! In March 1972 we played at the German Jazz Festival in Frankfurt at the Newcomer’s Concert – with more than thousand listeners and “live” a radio/TV recording. In the same hall the Rolling Stones and Janis Joplin performed before, later Miles Davis and many others. On November 14 in the same year we recorded the LP at the famous Bauer Studios in Ludwigsburg. We prepared the studio session very carefully – time is money. At least we did it in three hours. The sound engineer was Martin Wieland, who had recorded before the popular cologne concert by Keith Jarrett for the ECM label.

“Impro-Vision” sounds like electronical music – but we used only natural instruments, “Hava” is a feature for three clarinets, “Ron Do” is like a classical rondo, but with solo improvisations as the new parts. The theme we played only once, and it was later technically copied to fulfill the rondo form.

The “composition” of the first track of the AKM LP.

What can you tell me about the label AKM Records. Was this your label? The cover artwork and everything is all handmade. How did you decide to do so and how many copies were released. I believe 200?

We released 150 LP’s. We were students and had less money. Therefore it was the cheapest way to make the cover art for our own as handwork – with templates. The booklet we printed with the help of the student’s association. We worked for a December weekend at the floor of the Ludwigsburg teachers college. It made fun.  It’s crazy: Today at Ebay they pay more than 700 Dollars for our old and historic long playing disc.

How long did the project last and did you play anywhere else? Are there perhaps any other recordings still unreleased? Besides of Frankfurt, we only played in the area round Stuttgart. AK Musick as quintet xisted for a decade. In 1980 we did the performances “Spuren einer Russlandreise” („Tracks of a Russian Trip“) after Winfried Koch and me were in Moscow and Leningrad/St.Petersburg. It was a multimedia combination of art and music. We all stayed friends, but we didn’t play in the old quintet ensemble. For instance, Angela Weber, Alfred Lell and me were singing in the choir of the musical “Cabaret” at the Stuttgart State Theater…

Twelve years ago I went with a radio tape of the Frankfurt festival concert to the Bauer Studios for digitalizing the analog recording. Then I burnt CD’s for my own. That is all.

‘Free Blacks’ is your next music project. You joined forces with Perry Robinson. Wolfgang Dauner was also part of this album. What can you tell me about it? This was again a very limited issue? Perry Robinson was famous as the leading free jazz clarinet player. So he was interesting for me. I heard him several times before, but when he played in 1974 (2 years after AK Musick) at the Frankfurt festival I spoke with him, and soon we settled a duo on a bark bench outside the festival hall. We played in harmony like two brothers. After that I organized a studio recording in Stuttgart. It was after a concert he did with Gunter Hampel – between 1 and 3 o’clock in the night. Because there was time left for the LP I added three solo pieces. There is one (“Mona-a-gogo”) with a little help of my friend Wolfgang Dauner. He had invited me for recordings at the Radio Stuttgart before, and after that I arranged this peace for me as a clarinet on two different tracks. These two tracks he transformed with a ring modulation of his synthesizer. I produced 200 LP’s of “Free Blacks” (it means the free black clarinet instruments…)

AKM Records released ‘In Time’, feat. Theo Joergensmann, Bernd Konrad, ‘Jam Session Leningrad’, feat. Anatoly Vapirov, Sergey Kuryokhin, Alexander Alexandrov and ‘Jam Session Moscow’, feat. John Fischer, Leonid Chizhik, Alexey Zubov. What can you tell us about projects you had together with previously mentioned musicians? You know, I established the AKM label for my own – with no business strength. Just for fun. My clarinet colleague Theo Jörgensmann (we met us in Remscheid – close to Cologne – at a jazz clinic in 1969) had no own label, then I said he could write “AKM” on the sleeve. My second trip to the passed away Soviet Union was in December 1980/January 1981 when I had my regularly vacancies as a teacher. But then I smuggled my clarinet in and a tape out – Jam Session Leningrad. There I improvised together with saxophonist Anatoly Vapirov, bassoon player Alexander Alexandrov and the late pianist Sergey Kuryokhin. I was the first Western jazz avant-gardist to play in USSR together with resident musicians. I came as normal tourist and had to hide my ambitions against the KGB. Some months later, I traveled with my New York based friend John Fischer (piano), to Russia and we did a Session in Moscow together with the well-known players Leonid Chizhik (p), and Alexey Zubov (ts). Chizhik now lives in Munich, Zubov moved to Los Angeles. In 1984 you released ”On a Baltic Trip” album on Leo Records. What’s the story behind it and what followed after this? Leo Feigin is a refugee of former Leningrad, who worked for the Russian Service of the BBC in London and found the label “Leo Records”. He had presented my LP’s recorded in Leningrad and in Moscow already in the British radio. And so he was so friendly to release my sessions done in the Baltic metro poles of Riga, Vilnius and Tallinn as a “real” record company. In Estonia, Lithuania and Latvia I played together with leading jazz musicians there. Of course I was quite famous in whole Soviet Union thanks to the underground propaganda of the free jazz dissidents…

What are you currently working on? In meantime I am retired as a teacher. I am busier in writing articles and working as a photographer than as a clarinetist. So have no special planes as a musician. If the people ask to perform with my Polish wife Katarzyna “Polish Poetry + Jazz”, I can do it. On other sides I like to play at openings of art exhibitions, and often I play a kind of Klezmer music at events for killed Jews by the Nazi regime. If you look back in the late 60’s and 70’s. How did you see this German scene. You were more part of jazz scene, rather than rock experimental scene with acts such as Amon Düül II, Embryo etc. But were you connected with what was happening at the time and what was the scene in your city? Hitler time was not long far away. We wanted to have a better Germany. We wanted to make a democratic and world open minded music. Of course, I have known and listened to Embryo, Amon Düül, but it was no influence to AK Musick. When we played at the Frankfurt festival Paul and Limpe Fuchs (often partner of the piano player Friedrich Gulda!) joined us as surprising guests on the stage. The best concert of my hometown Schwäbisch Hall in 1969 was “Black Sabbath” with Ozzy Osbourne… They played for 600 Deutsche Marks (approx. 200 Dollars) in a former church.

AK Musick with Limpe Fuchs. Thanks for taking your time. Would you like to send a message to It’s Psychedelic Baby readers?

Keep the eyes and ears open. International understanding is so important. Maybe music can help.

Klemen

[adrianalvas]

Podcast 188: Figure Section [aufnahme + wiedergabe] [ +Interview]

Figure Section arose from the meeting of Austrian-French musician and actress Olivia Carrère - aka Olive - and Belgian artist and producer Yannick Franck (RAUM, Orphan Swords, Mt Gemini), who first crossed paths on a theatre stage in Brussels.

Although founded on an acknowledgement of these styles, their execution is experimental, idiosyncratic and entirely modern in spirit, guided by an intent to revise their influences and an approach shaped by romanticism and a surreal, Dadaistic sense of humour. The recurrent themes of the project address friendship, love, loss, existential angst, survival, irony, degeneration, queer culture, non-conformity and ‘the expiation of tensions through modern day rituals’.

The duo’s first single ‘Teutonic Knights’ was hailed by The Brvtalist as an illustration of ”infectious wave [music] with an eerie atmosphere and frigid vocals”, a track that subsequently generated widespread acclaim. In October their debut EP was released on the cult Berlin based label run by Phillip Strobel, aufnahme + wiedergabe.

TF: What motivates you to create Figure Section?

O: My collaboration with Yannick is an intersection between a strong friendship and similar interests and tastes in music. What’s more, the collaboration between us is really complementary in the creative process and allows us to explore new musical playgrounds which neither of us would probably reach if we were working separately.

Y: There are certain musical realms I wanted to explore for a long time whilst doing very different projects (Orphan Swords, RAUM, Y.E.R.M.O.), and since we met and started to experiment together, we dreamed of having a proper duo. It took time but here we are, I am very glad the project exists and I couldn’t dream of a better companion to do it with.

TF: Tell us something about you. What’s your background? Where did you studied and who influenced you to explore musical processes?

O: My background is rather diverse, and it took me a long time to discover how intimate I was with music as a listener, but also as a composer. I come from a theatrical background. I trained as an actress, though I started my studies with a degree in communication – specifically in socio-cultural animation - knowing that I would change path after obtaining it. It’s quite funny to see how tortuous life can be before finding your way through and beyond all these experiences. When I started as an actress ten years ago, something was missing in my professional contribution. I was desperately looking for some creative language that I could develop on my own. I was already familiar with singing since my childhood, so I started learning the basics of music theory online, and quickly I realized that I wanted to compose songs, and to find the easiest way of recording them without any external help. I got my hands on a keyboard and software and started composing, singing and producing at home. It was more a secret process for a few years, until I created a solo piece in the National Theatre of Belgium, which involved performing some of my compositions. This was a fundamental step where I learned that, with the music, I could be really free in the writing and performing process.

Y: I studied painting, but it quickly became clear that music was a territory worth exploring and one that I had to invest my time and energy into. Since I was pretty disgusted by the blatant materialism and the general mindset of the art world; the galleries, and a lot of the attitudes adopted by other artists (competitiveness, individualism, tendency to follow an art world, scale version of the Star System), I found there would be more freedom making music. People attend a concert to have an experience. Anyhow I love art, all sorts of art and my friends are usually creative people. Also, there have never been any boundaries for me, you can build sonic sculptures or paint rhythms, you can conceive a concert as a performance, you can do whatever you want. I recently moderated a panel at BOZAR about the underground art scene in New York in the 80’s, in East Village in particular. I had the pleasure of interviewing Dany Johnson (she was a resident DJ at Club 57 and later at Paradise Garage), Leonard Abrams (he ran the fabulous magazine The East Village Eye) and Gil Vasquez (DJ and president of the Keith Haring Foundation) and what struck me was the fact that at that particular moment in that scene you had zero boundaries between visual art, music, dance, performance… Klaus Nomi shared the bill with Ann Magnuson and John Sex and Haring curated shows and painted almost 24/7 while listening to music. It was all about energy. It’s academicism and speculation (art as a luxury product) that kills such energies (and eventually did in that case) Two different problems, both normative and alien to any creative essence. I stumbled upon a Serge Daney quote lately: ‘Academicism is the aesthetics of nihilism.’ And I agree with that, once you “do things because that’s the way they’re done”, reproduce them in blind fidelity and separate, classify, and annihilate boundary breaking forces, you start producing numb, meaningless objects. In this case a painting has to go from a gallery to a living room or a collection where it belongs. Is it a nice base material for speculation or a good way to seem educated and exhibit your taste as a buyer, to impress others? Hell no…a painting is rather an expression of life itself, a celebration, an exhibition of the worlds revolting features, its horrors, its injustice, its sadness, qualities and themes such as these…in every case it is an essential, vital gesture. Otherwise why even take a look at it? Music should be just the same.

TF: Do you spend all your time for your musical activity or do you have another job?

O: Yes, I do now. The musical activity has taken the vast majority of my time even though I’m still performing as a theatre actress, but that part of my professional activity is becoming more and more scarce. I’ve been recently offered to create music for theatre. So, my work today is divided between Figure Section, and other emerging projects for which I compose and produce for other artists, and my work as a music composer for the theatre. Maybe one day I will come back to the stage with a performance in which I’ll be the actress as well as the musician. I do keep an eye on that prospect even though it’s not the priority for the moment.

Y: I teach sound in cinema. We analyze movies and their soundtracks most of the time. It is a very interesting way to make a living next to music making.

TF: How is your live set up going to be? Any particular equipment? What’s your favourite track to play live and why?

O: We are working on the simplest and most efficient way of touring. So, our set is based on live keyboard playing, voice mixing, and equalizing the tracks live. So, there’s no particular equipment at the moment.

Spectral Dance, is one of my favourites to play live. It’s a more nostalgic synthpop song that offers a vast sense of space for the vocals and the keyboard parts. I just love its simplicity, almost naïveté, contrasted by lyrics about pernicious ghosts from the past that try to keep us from moving forward.

Y: There is a lot of different processes and ideas colliding and merging in Figure Section. It is always quite challenging for us to write a new song and perform it on stage. I think my favourite live song is currently Disfigured Section. We both sing on that one and I love that. Lyrics and vibe wise it’s sort of a Neo Dada track, maybe a tad surrealistic too, from apparent nonsense a lot of sense can emerge from the lyrics. Also, it is nervous, rough, noisy, kind of pissed off. At the same time desperate and full of energy. A union of opposites.

TF: What new hardwares did you apply to make 'Spectre' LP? Do you have a particular method while working in the studio?

O: There’s no new hardware utilized, but we have a more precise choice of instruments these days as well as a particular approach in the production process. Yannick and I work just as well separately as together in the studio. It just helps us to be more efficient because of our very different schedules. We both share online a musical file filled with musical ideas, loops, drums and lyrics. We are both the composers and mixers of the songs, but Yannick is more the writer and the producer and I’m more the arranger and singer. I think that we have now reached the perfect balance in the creative process, which is almost symbiotic.

Y: Yes, it is super interesting because I never know where Olive is going to take a song to when she starts working on it with her great skills and sensibility. What I know is that great stuff will eventually happen, leading to things that will stimulate us and give us even more ideas.

TF: How do you compose this tracks? Do you treat them like musical narratives or more like sound sculptures or images?

O: It really depends on the material. Sometimes Yannick comes with a very complete composition and I add the keyboard and voice arrangements, sometimes I come with a proposition and he completes it. Our strongest asset as a duo is that we started music completely differently, Yannick as an electronic experimentalist and performer, and I as a pop songwriter and singer. So, what we do is bring these assets together in our songs. I think the first track of the Spectre release is the perfect example of that symbiosis. This is what we aim for.

Y: Yes, it is a creative adventure, we have no such thing as a clearly established routine, it’s more laboratory like. It is not “experimental music” but the way it is done is not conventional either.

TF: Any movie, documentary, album (not electronic music) that you would like to share with our readers?

O: We are big fans of horror, thrillers and sci-fi. The last movie that left me fascinated as well as horrified is Midsommar by Ari Aster. I loved that movie because its director knows how to subtly inject weird elements of comedy that make you feel uncomfortable, as well as conveying an ice-cold intrigue about ancient pagan practices and rituals. Loved it.

Y: +1 for Midsommar. I loved that the movie never seems to bring any judgment about the neo-pagan community it depicts, it is just utterly different from what we know but it seems to make sense no matter how shocking it can be. It gives us a break from the ethnocentric attitude of many North Americans and from the extreme arrogance of modern western civilizations, which seem to be absolutely convinced of their superiority to any previous or different civilizations. Also, the visual effects are amazing. Der Goldener Handschuh (The Golden Glove) was quite a great movie too. Being utterly disgusted by this ugly, messy, desperate serial killer’s gruesome murders without being able to restrain myself from laughing was for sure a wild experience. And it really triggers thoughts afterwards. Moral thoughts especially. I found it pretty strong. A non-electronic album: Lux perpetua by Ensemble Organum, which is a very particular version of the Requiem by Anthonius de Divitis. It is such a beautiful requiem and such an incredible interpretation; it even features throat singing which is very unusual in the context of European polyphonic reinterpretations. 15th century art tends to focus a lot on death and mortality. And as Regis Debray said in his 1992 book The Life and Death of Images: “Where there is death there’s hope, aesthetically speaking.”

TF: What are the forthcoming projects?

O: Wrapping up our debut LP.

Y: We are also planning tours, confirmed dates are in Israel and the US so far but more will be announced later on. It would be fabulous to come play in Mexico too!

source https://www.tforgotten.org/single-post/Podcast-188-Figure-Section-aufnahme-wiedergabe-Interview